asdfghjklLOVE
by AnnaStarKid
Summary: Mark and Nick's story


Mark slid into the empty desk between Anna and Kristina just as the bell rang. Even though he had sprinted down the last stretch of the hallway, he had still only just made it to his first class on time. He'd been given a new locker this year, much to his chagrin, because the one he'd had the past two years was now broken. It was probably from the countless times he'd been shoved forcibly against it that had resulted in the lock finally breaking or jamming. Whatever the reason, he hated how far away his new locker was, and that he was no longer along the same row as two of his best friends. With his luck he'd be stuck in a hallway full of his bullies.

"Remind me again why I let you two talk me into taking AP English?" Anna said, eyeing Mr. Base with distaste as he slammed the door shut and dropped his briefcase onto the teacher's desk.

"Because it's better than suffering through the normal English class with Sam and Jen," Mark reminded her quietly.

"Or the advanced one with Sarah," Kristina added.

Mark nodded as he pulled a notebook out of his backpack. "Perfroming Arts Club alone is too much time spent in her presence."

Anna seemed satisfied with their reminders and nodded. The next second a huge, mischievous grin split her face as she turned to whisper excitedly to them. "So did you see the new guy?"

Up front Mr. Base called for silence, glaring at the three of them in particular since they were the only students actually bold enough to talk in his class. He began the roll- call in his droning voice, prompting the three of them to roll their eyes and begin doodling notes to each other in the margins of Mark's notebook.

_"What new guy?" _Mark scribbled out. On his right hand side Kristina leaned forward to read Anna's response, looking just as curious as him.

_Anna took Mark's pen and wrote out "some transfer from that reform school over in Westerville. Dayton or Dullson or whatever it's called"._

Mark and Kristina glanced at each other, wondering why this was of any interest to them. Middle- of- nowhere Ohio or not, it wasn't that unusual for there to be a few new kids at the start of every year. It didn't make an ounce of sense to Mark why _anyone_ would want to move to this hick town when he only wanted to survive it long enough to escape, but he liked to think that most people didn't have his intelligence, either.

Kristina reached across Mark for the notebook. "_Why should this interest us?" she contributed._

Anna raised her eyebrows and shot them a sassy look full of attitude that clearly said the answer should be obvious. _Because a) he's absolutely gorgeous b) he kicked William's ass when he tried to slushy him before first period and c) did I mention he's gorgeous?_

Kristina giggled, then covered her mouth quickly when Mr. Base glared at them again. Mark quirked his lips a bit, but didn't respond. What did it matter to him if another gorgeous straight boy was walking the halls of Sanibel? The bit about William was certainly intriguing, but if this guy came from a reform school like Anna had said, he couldn't honestly say he was surprised.

Mark glanced back down at the notebook where Anna had given a better account of the incident she had witnessed in the hallway that morning. His eyes scanned over it briefly, taking in enough to get the gist of what seemed to have been a very short fight. Apparently Williamhad been caught off guard by someone actually punching him.

"Now, class, welcome to AP English Language and Composition. Here's the syllabus for– "

The door was flung open so hard it bounced back off the filing cabinet behind it. Startled, everyone turned to see what the commotion was about. Beside him, Mark heard Anna gasp and whisper in excitement. "That's _him._"

As Mark felt part of his brain short- circuit he realized Anna had been right about one thing. The new boy _was _gorgeous. Breathtakingly handsome, really, Mark decided, as he stared at the boy in his tight, dark jeans, white V- neck shirt, and black leather jacket. Blonde hair that was perfect. His skin was lightly tanned and he had smoldering hazel-green eyes. Eyes that were staring right at Mark. Blushing furiously, Mark jerked his gaze away and stared instead at the notebook on his desk, which meant he missed the cocky smirk that tugged at the boy's mouth as he strutted up to Mr. Base and tossed a note on his desk. Without a word the new boy walked to the back of the room, everyone watching him and whispering about the fight from earlier, and took the vacant seat right behind Mark.

"Yes," Mr. Base said eyeing the note through his glasses, "Everyone, we have a new student. Nick Atkinson. Right, let's pass out the syllabus."

With a few glances behind them, Kristina grabbed the notebook again and scribbled exactly was Mark was thinking. _Oh my god. He is so hot._

Anna practically squealed and they both dissolved into silent giggles. The boy in front of Mark passed him the syllabus. Mark sorted out three for him and the girls before turning to hand it to who was behind him –

Only to come face to face with Nick. And not the usual face to face these desks allowed, because Nick was leaning forward so far that his face was six inches away from Mark's. He was so close Mark could smell his spicy, masculine scent, mixed with peppermint and a hint of cigarette smoke; could see the four piercings in his right ear, the industrial one in his left, and the small silver hoop looped through the edge of his left eyebrow. He gulped audibly, hating himself for being so obvious, and hating this boy for being so irresistibly attractive. Nick smirked broadly as he took the last syllabus from his trembling fingers, his eyes staring at Mark hungrily.

"Thanks, babe."

This time Anna really did squeal. Kristina did, too. Because, _god_, even this guy's voice was breathtaking. Mark cleared his throat and tried to respond with a friendly "you're welcome" but he just ended up staring and mouthing wordlessly. If he didn't know any better he would have sworn this guy was flirting with him, but that was improbable. No male in Lima, Ohio would ever flirt with _him_. The guy would have to be gay for that to happen, and nobody around here would admit to that if they were. He'd pretty much resigned himself to spending his high school years alone. Once he left for college in New York ,things would get better. He'd find a boy to love then.

Mark turned back towards the front, attempting to re- focus on what Mr. Base was saying. It was incredibly difficult with Anna and Kristina giggling and writing furious notes to each other on _his_ notebook, eventually deciding amongst a fresh wave of giggles that Nick's voice was "_like sex_". Mark thought it was an odd comparison. Especially when neither of them even knew what sex was like, at least Mark didn't think they did. He didn't want to _know_ if they did.

Mr. Base's battle for Mark's attention was completely lost when something heavy dropped onto the book-rack under Mark's chair. He stiffened, but tried in vain to at least appear focused on whatever it was he was supposed to be listening to. Mark had enough experience to know it must be a foot on the book-rack. The school desks were so uncomfortable that it made students prop their feet up or stretch them out on the book-racks all the time. Normally Mark didn't have a problem with it, but this time he could tell it was intentional. Only the jocks that liked to tease him ever dropped their feet down that hard, and it was to annoy him so he might go off and get in trouble. He wasn't sure what Nick's intention was, but he imagined it was along those lines. The thought of having another bully to deal with made Mark cringe.

But then something unexpected happened. The boot clad foot slid over to the side and started rubbing up and down his calf. Mark gasped loudly and jumped in alarm at the sudden touch. Several people around him turned to look, and Anna and Kristina both started. He couldn't stop himself from glancing down this time. A large black leather boot was resting against the inside of his ankle and – was that an ankle monitor? He knew he was blushing furiously as he turned around and put on the best bitch- face he could muster.

"What the hell is your problem?" he hissed angrily, though his voice cracked slightly on the last word. As soon as he saw those hazel- green eyes he blushed even harder.

Nick leaned forward again, lightly running his fingers over the hand Mark was gripping the back of his seat with. Mark jerked it away at once, glaring hard and trying to ignore the way his stomach swooped under the callused fingertips.

"You look tense, baby," Nick whispered huskily. "Maybe a good fuck will loosen you up."

Mark was definitely gaping now. Not to mention absolutely speechless at the arrogance and nerve of this _lewd, cocky, gorgeous – _stop it, Mark scolded himself. What was _wrong _with him?

"Something you boys would like to share with the class?" Mr. Base's annoyed voice called from the front.

For the first time ever, Mark was glad for the droning voice of his teacher. Teachers usually never come to his aid when he was being accosted by bullies, so he wasn't sure what had prompted the change. But at least the interruption saved him from trying to come up with a reply. He was too shocked, not to mention incredibly embarrassed that he hadn't just snapped out a witty remark like he does with everyone else. Being propositioned like this wasn't something that happened to him every day, or ever, actually. Bullies he could handle without a second thought, but this was something entirely new. Something that he hated for exciting him so much.

"Share?" Nick echoed, eyes still fixed firmly on Mark, who hadn't moved. His lips quirked again, in a way that made Mark's heart flutter. "I'm not much for sharing, but you're more than welcome to get your voyeurism on. We'll never say no to an audience, will we, babe?"

The whole class was gaping at the pair of them. Even Mr. Base was speechless. The only person who moved was Mark. He had never been more furious. He'd been called countless names over the years, but nobody had _ever _been so bold as to imply that he was some sort of promiscuous wretch. He wasn't sure if it was the implications put out into the air for everyone to latch onto and tease him about, or the gorgeous, vulgar asshole himself that infuriated him, but he did the only thing his rage- addled brain could come up with.

_Smack._

His hand across Nick's cheek echoed in the deafening silence of the classroom.

"How dare you– " Mark started. His usually pale face was flushed as he glared at Nick, who hadn't moved since Mark had slapped him. "Like I would ever give you the time of day."

Nick rotated his head slowly back towards Mark, his cheek red and stinging. Ice- cold venom was blazing in his eyes as he rose slowly from his seat. He froze as Nick towered over him in his seat.

"You're going to make this an interesting year, aren't you, little virgin queen?" Nick growled, leaning down until he was only a few inches away from Mark's face again. The comment seemed to finally snap Mr. Base from his shocked daze.

"Principal's office, both of you," Mr. Base ordered. "_Now_."

Those words sucked Mark's remaining anger away. The color in his cheeks drained as he turned his horrified gaze onto Mr. Base.

"But– what– this is _his fault– _" Mark exclaimed indignantly.

"Regardless of Mr. Atkinson's inappropriate comments, I will not have one student slap another in my classroom," Mr. Base said firmly, gesturing towards the door. "Principal's office. I will be there once this class is over."

Nick's face morphed back into that perfectly cocky smirk again as he grabbed his bag and headed towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to flash Mark a dazzling, lustful grin. "Are you going to walk yourself or would you prefer it if I carried you there bridal- style?"

Next to him, Anna spat, "Oh, hell to the no, he did not."

Mark shushed her as Mr. Base glared at him and ordered, "Principal's office, Mr. Sheme. I will not tell you again."

Feeling numb, Mark shoved his notebook into his own bag and stood, avoiding eye contact with his classmates as they broke out into whispers that rung in his ears like radio static.

"I will call ahead to let them know to expect you," Mr. Base added, looking pointedly at Nick.

With a highly amused grin, Nick saluted Mr. Base and pulled the door open. He motioned Mark through the doorway with a ridiculous, yet impeccable bow. Mark schooled his face into his angriest look and started up a brisk pace towards the front office with his head held high. He hoped Nick would disregard the teacher's warning and just _leave_. Or stop smelling _so damn good._

Because it was impossible to not inhale his scent when the other was bobbing along only inches away from Mark. _Again._ Nick chuckled, his hot breath ghosting over Mark's neck making him shiver. Whether he was shivering from repulsion at having Nick so close to him or from the little thrill he felt because of how pleasant Nick smelled, Mark wasn't sure. He pressed his lips together tightly and walked faster, trying to ignore the strange sensation in his stomach. "We make quite a good team, Sheme. I almost thought I'd have to sit through the entire class, but _bam_! You certainly know how to create a fantastic scene."

"We do nothing together," Mark snapped. Then he realized how open- ended he'd left that statement and cursed himself. Nick had already shown himself to be of quicker wit than Chase or William.

Nick grinned slyly at him, stepping in front of him and making him come to a halt. "We _could _do something together." His eyes darkened as he continued, his voice dropping to a rough growl. "I could think of a very specific something I'd love to do with you."

Mark glared down at him, relishing in the fact that he was a few inches taller than the arrogant boy. "I highly doubt we could do anything of the sort until you get your head out of your ass," Mark shot back as he side stepped Nick and continued down the hallway. The vindictive part of him couldn't resist calling over his shoulder. "Maybe once your head's been retrieved you'll actually be the height of a normal human being."

Mark heard Nick laugh quietly as he followed after him. Just as they entered the front office, Nick leaned up to whisper in his ear. With Nick's _damn_ breath ticking his earlobe, Mark almost didn't register what he said. "You virgins are always such teases until you're on your knees."

Mark clenched his jaw, fighting down the urge to smack the boy again as the receptionist waved them towards Principal Von Harten's office.

This was _not_ how Mark had planned his first day of Junior year to go. The rhythmic _clink_ of metal against teeth and the hum of the computer were the only sounds in Von Harten's office. Mark grinded his teeth together (something he _never, ever_ did) and re-crossed his legs for the hundredth time, doing nothing to hide the full-force glare he was giving Nick. For his part, Nick was slouched down in the chair next to him, any semblance of grace or poise absent. His head was resting against the top of the back of his chair, eyes drooping closed as he flicked his _damn_ _tongue piercing _against his teeth to some mysterious beat. A huge, huffy sigh escaped past his lips before he could catch himself and Nick stopped long enough to laugh quietly.

And then he continued his previous rhythm and Mark almost gave into the urge to start ripping his beloved hair out. The sound made Mark's teeth ache as if it was his teeth the metal was smacking again. He cursed himself for even thinking that thought, shifting in his seat at how uncomfortable his pants were destined to become if that noise didn't stop immediately. God, how he wished he hadn't worn skintight jeans today.

"Would you cut it out?" he demanded sharply, uncrossing his legs and leaning towards Nick in what he hoped was a threatening manner. Or at least extremely annoyed or offended. Anything that would get him to stop flicking his tongue piercing around because hearing it made Mark think about it. And thinking about Nick with a _fucking tongue piercing _was not something that he should be doing. Thinking about Nick wasn't something he should be doing at all.

"Cut what out, babe?" Nick asked innocently. He looked anything but as he turned to Mark, lips quirked into a devilish smirk, eyes glinting in the artificial lights. It was a look Mark couldn't name, but one he knew he should hate himself for liking. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before; like they actually thought he was attractive.

Then he remembered where he was, and more importantly how he'd gotten there, and he caught himself before what he was thinking became too obvious.

"You know exactly what," Mark snapped, folding his arms and re-crossing his legs in an attempt to hide his growing arousal. He shifted his gaze to the painting on the far wall, intent on ignoring Nick, which once again became impossible as he heard Nick's chair scrap across the hardwood.

"Oh, I know," Nick whispered softly, his warm, smoke-laced breath tickled the hairs on the back of Mark's neck, "I just want to hear you say it."

He really wished he'd picked different pants this morning. Luckily the door to the office opened at that moment and Principal's Von Harten and Mr. Base entered, preventing Nick from doing anything else. Mark was momentarily taken by surprise at their appearance. He hadn't even heard the bell ring, but before the door snapped shut he could hear the crowd of students slugging their way through the halls to their second block class.

Von Harten took a seat in the worn leather chair facing them, looking uncharacteristically stern. Mr. Base, a packet of papers in hand, stood off to the side.

"Back again, Mr. Atkinson?" Mark was confused for a second, but then he realized Nick had to have a last name. He glanced over at Nick–when had he shifted his seat back over there?–and watched the mocking smile form on his lips as Von Harten continued. "This is the second time in two hours."

"I should probably slow down on that a bit," Nick intoned cheekily, folding his arms, "Wouldn't want to make it too obvious how irresistible I find you."

Everyone in the office visibly blanched. If Mark didn't hate the boy so much at the moment he would have had to stop to admire his sarcasm.

"_Mr. Atkinson–"_

Nick held his hands up defensively, "Alright, alright. Dish out the punishment and get on with it then. I'm already bored with you."

Mark felt his jaw sag slightly. He'd thought that Nick was audacious in Mr. Base's class, but he hadn't dreamed he'd talk to the Principal like he was a misbehaving toddler who he had just sent to his room.

The muscles in Von Harten's jaw worked furiously as he glared at Nick, who looked completely unfazed.

"Mr. Base had already worked out a punishment for you boys, but obviously I will need to add onto yours, Mr. Atkinson." Von Harten turned as Mr. Base stepped forward.

"You will both serve a week of detention with me starting tomorrow." his dark eyes flashed to Mark, who had opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it, "Since you were both absence from the remainder of class you missed partner assignments for the novel analysis. Therefore I have partnered you together–"

"_What?"_ Mark squawked, eyes widening. A week of detention was going to be bad enough. Now he had to do a project with this asshole?

"It's all explained in the assignment packet," he held out the packets as he spoke and Mark snatched it out of his hand, "You would have known this if you hadn't been disruptive."

But Mark wasn't listening. He was scanning the outline on the first page–

_For every novel we will be reading, you and your assigned partner will be designated a portion of the text to critically analyze and present to the class during discussion–_

"Wait," Mark said faintly, his heart sinking, "You mean I'm stuck with him all _year?_"

"I do not change partners unless given very good reason, Mr. Sheme," Mr. Base said sharply, "Unless it becomes incredibly obvious that you two are not both pulling your weight in the assignments then I see no reason to change this arrangement."

Von Harten cleared his throat and added, "Given Mr. Atkinson's glowing academic reputation from Dalton I see no reason for you to be concerned, Mr. Sheme. Learn to work past your differences and these problems you two seem to be having."

_Glowing academic reputation?_ Mark wondered in disbelief, glancing at Nick, who still looked unfazed at the conversation around them. In fact, he'd gone right back to clicking his tongue piercing, ignoring the assignment sheet in his lap.

"Mr. Atkinson you will serve an extra week of detention for you insolence," Von Harten continued, as Mr. Base left the office with a small farewell, "I will write you both notes to excuse your tardiness to second block. What classes should you be in?"

"French IV with Madame Bellemont," Mark muttered, carefully tucking the packet into his bag.

"AP Calc." Nick added, unceremoniously stuffing his own paper into his ratty bag.

Von Harten handed Mark a short note, and looked at Nick, "AB with Ms. Gates?"

"BC with Jenkins." Nick corrected, throwing Mark a roguish wink.

Lips twisted in a snarl, Mark stalked out of the office and headed upstairs, trying to ignore how flushed his face was and hoping Nick hadn't seen it before he'd left. No, he thought, this year isn't going to go well at all.

Mark spent what was left of his French class insulting Chase in a dozen different ways. Even after three years in the same French class as the jock he still didn't understand exactly _how_ Chase had managed to pass the first section of the subject. Still, after an hour of dishing out rapid-fire French and saying things to one of his chief tormentors that he would never dare say in English, he felt slightly better about the morning he'd had so far.

A quick stop by his locker to drop off his books led him back downstairs to his Home Economics class. He was one of the last to enter, but thrilled to see some familiar faces present. Georgia and Kristina had snatched a table in the front and Anna had saved him a spot in the back row that he gladly sunk into.

"Boy, you have a lot of explaining to do," Anna said at once.

Kristina appeared at his shoulder, "I cannot believe you slapped him!"

"He deserved it." Mark retorted, anger flaring up at once as Georgia joined them, "He's a vile prick who needs a hair transplant."

"I tried to give my brother's Legomen hair transplants once with my leg hairs." Georgia whispered to Kristina, who just looked confused.

Okay, maybe he was lying about that last part. He loved Nick's hair, he just wanted to run his hands through it and...the girls were looking at him expectantly and he realized he had no idea what they'd asked him.

"Sorry, what?"

"What happened in Von Harten's office?" Kristina reiterated, exchanging a furtive glance with Anna.

The look didn't escape Mark's notice. He eyed the pair warily, "What's that look for?"

"What look?" Anna said, plastering on an insanely bright smile and pretending whatever that look was, hadn't happened, "How much trouble did you get into?"

"Week of detention with Mr. Base." he paused as the girl's looked aghast, "With _him._"

Kristina covered her mouth as she started coughing but he could see the huge grin behind her hand. Anna, however, did nothing to hide hers.

"_What?_" he finally snapped when neither of them seemed to want to explain just what the hell was so great about this news.

The bell rang as he glared at the pair of them. Mrs. Olsen appeared at the front as Kristina and Georgia wandered back to their table.

"_What are you two going on about?"_ Mark hissed at Anna as roll call started.

"Oh come _on,_ boo. You can't be that oblivious."

Mark stared at her blankly, and when he didn't reply she rolled her eyes and whispered back, "He's totally into you."

"He's an asshole." Mark shot back, a bit louder than he'd meant to. The girls in front of them glanced back curiously as Anna cut him off.

"He's _hot_ and _gay,_ Mark. Or bisexual or something." Anna waved her hand around in exasperation, "The point is, how many more gay guys do you think you're going to meet in high school?"

"So I should just throw myself at him because he's _gay?_" Mark said somewhere between disbelief and anger, "He's not even my type–"

"Oh, _please._ I saw the way you were looking at him, boy. And since I don't stand a chance, you should take one during your detentions."

"No. Just no. He's already been enough trouble for me. I don't care if he's gorgeous, he's the absolute last thing I need in my life."

He glared furiously at her and turned back towards the front. Privately, he knew Anna was at least partly right. _Someone_ would undoubtedly be trying to make a move during their detentions, and Mark honestly didn't know if he was looking forward to it or not.

They didn't take about Nick at all while they were baking, nor during their lunch break and the half an hour of class after. Mark was grateful for it, and even more grateful that Nick didn't seem to have lunch or any of his other classes today. He only hoped the same would happen tomorrow. He left Anna, Kristina and Georgia at the stairwell for his last class up on the second floor.

The moment he walked through the doorway to the chemistry lab he almost turned around and skipped the stupid class because there was Nick. His boot-clad feet were propped up on the table in front of him and a giant pair of headphones were sealed over his ears. Mark could hear the buzz of the music from across the room and silently took the seat farthest away from the delinquent. He had the sudden feeling that Nick was going to be in all of his AP classes. Von Harten's comment about the "glowing academic reputation" rung in his ears as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the sound of Nick's fingers drumming on the table.

A glint of metal on Nick's ankle caught his eye as more students began filing in. The ankle monitor. He'd forgotten about it in all the drama of the morning. Now that he remembered he couldn't help but wonder just what Nick had done to get it slapped on. But his eyes had lingered too long. Nick's feet dropped off the table as he turned to Mark, pulling off his headphones.

"See something you like, Sheme?"

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but he wasn't going to let Nick keep getting the better of him. Several of their classmates had turned to watch. Judging by the whispers, Mark knew the incident from English class had already spread like wild fire.

"Just admiring your gaudy jewelry, Atkinson." Mark snapped, glaring at every one of those pearly white teeth, "It's reassuring to see someone's keeping you on a short leash."

The smile on Nick's face had to be frozen. It didn't widen or shrink or flicker in any way. It was unnerving to Mark. Everything about Nick was unnerving. He managed to get under Mark's skin in a way nobody else had ever done.

Mrs. Mentore entered with the bell, and only when she called for everyone's attention did Nick finally look away, his smile still lingering on his handsome face. A thrill that Mark had been trying to suppress shot down his spine and he squirmed in his plastic seat. Why couldn't it have been someone– a_nyone–_ else that had decided to be the asshole to pursue him with those damn lustful eyes? He could have denied them easily with a witty remark and a snarky look but for some reason he couldn't fathom he couldn't do that with Nick. It was starting to piss him off more than the actual boy was.

There was a call to partner up for a lab and fortunately the girl next to him agreed to work with him. It was only when everyone had shuffled off to the lab stations that Mark realized there was an odd number, and more importantly that Nick was the odd man out. He hadn't budged from his seat and Mrs. Mentore noticed as she headed towards the back where the stations were set up.

"Oh, we seem to have an odd number, guys! Who wants to be a trio?"

Nobody spoke. It was like the silence that had followed his slap this morning, only for some reason it made him feel a lot worse. Nick rose from his desk and everyone shrunk back in obvious alarm, clearly expecting some form of aggression for the snub. The reaction would have made Mark flinch at the very least, but Nick's expression was impassive.

"I prefer to work _alone_ actually." Nick intoned lightly, snatching a lab sheet from her shocked hands and settling in at the only empty lab station.

"Are you su–" she stopped at the dark look he shot her, looking as flustered as Mark usually felt under his gaze, "Right. Um...class! Welcome to AP Chemistry II! I had most of you for the first section of Chemistry so you know the drill for labs. Wear your goggles for this one and answer the questions in your lab notebooks. Here are the directions..."

As she went up and down to each group handing out the sheets Mark saw that Nick was already way ahead of the rest of them and not wearing the protective goggles like they'd been told. Mrs. Mentore seemed hesitant to approach him again and instead called, "Everyone make sure your goggles are on!" before making her rounds to help them with the lab. Nick ignored her.

Mark knew he should be focused on his own lab, but he couldn't help but watch the delinquent. Nick was flying through this like he'd done it a million times before. At least the glowing academic reputation made sense to him now even if the obnoxious attitude didn't. After half an hour of progress Mark was glad to see that they were half way through the lab and ahead of everyone else. Except Nick who was finished and pulling a cigarette out of his back pocket. With a swift movement he stuck the tip into the still lit Bunsen burner and brought it to his lips–

"Mr. Atkinson! Put that out at once!"

The entire class spun around to watch as Mrs. Mentore snatched the smoking cigarette from his hands and put it out in the sink.

"There is no smoking on school grounds and especially not inside a classroom! Principal's office, right now!"

With a roll of his eyes and an accompanying sigh, Nick shouldered his bag, thrust his finished lab report at her and walked out. Somehow, Mark seriously doubted Nick would actually end up where he had been sent. Mark made a beeline for his locker the following morning. After the hell Jen and Sam had given him in Perfroming Arts Club yesterday he was avoiding them at all costs. It wasn't _his_ fault that Nick was gay and therefore pursued him instead of Jen. And what did he care if the slapping incident had escalated Nick above Sam's badass status? That was the absolute least of his concerns. No, the biggest of his concerns was the dark head of curls that had stalked him around in his dreams last night. There was nothing remotely good that would come from a continuation of that, but he had no sure way of avoiding the prick either.

He slunk over to the next hallway to meet Anna and Kristina at their lockers. He'd lucked out this year and gotten one next to nobody he knew (and hopefully _not_ _Nick_ he added silently). He'd barely turned the corner when he was shoved face first into the lockers lining the wall. It was only very quick reflexes that saved him from a bloody nose. His arm and shoulder took most of the impact but his cheek still caught on one of the locker's air vents. Part of him expected his tormentor to be Nick, who had realized he wasn't going to get what he wanted and had decided on a new tack: aggression. But as he turned around he spotted two hulking lettermen jackets high five each other as they continued down the hallway.

With an irritated sigh he readjusted the shoulder strap on his bag and dug into one of the smaller pockets for some tissues to wipe his cut. His search was ended abruptly when a callused thumb swept across his cheek, pressing lightly into the cut and taking the blood off. On instinct he slapped the hand away and took a defensive step back to center his balance, prepared for anything.

A cocky smirk and brilliant hazel-green eyes stared back at him. Nick eyed the streak of blood on his thumb and said offhandedly, "You should really learn to control that hand. You'll land yourself in more detention."

Mark's eyes narrowed as the shorter boy leaned against the lockers in front of him. Over his leather clad shoulder, Mark could see Kristina and Anna pulling books out of their lockers, but Nick was effectively blocking his route.

"I'm surprised they let you back in today. Aren't you a fire hazard?" Mark asked snidely. Nick was still eyeing the pad of his thumb and didn't comment. He was just calculating the easier way to dodge around Nick to get to his friends when Nick did something that made his mental processes implode. He sucked his thumb into his mouth, slowly pulling it out as his tongue twisted around it, licking the coppery liquid off his skin. It was a slow, deliberate movement on Nick's part. The small part of Mark's brain that hadn't completely shut down realized it immediately as those smoldering hazel-green eyes locked onto his.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and way too much heat migrating south. His mouth was suddenly very dry and he couldn't summon the will to move away as Nick inched forward, eyes raking over his body. Mark held his ground, his wit taking charge before he could really gain control of himself.

"Please tell me you aren't going to start sparkling." Mark deadpanned, causing Nick to stop a good foot away from him.

The smile from yesterday afternoon had returned. Mark felt the heat rising up his neck, which he was almost thankful for. At least it meant it wasn't flooding south anymore.

"Rest assured, Sheme. My tastes in literature are quite fantastic." The smile widened as he leaned against the lockers again, his arms folded across his chest, today covered by a tight army green shirt.

The fashionista part of Mark recognized it as an excellent color choice: it made the green in his eyes stand out a mile off. For the same reason his rational side hated it. The pants on the other hand...

"Whereas your taste in fashion likes to recycle itself." Mark eyed the same tight, dark jeans from yesterday with a look of deep disdain. He regretted it almost instantly because he couldn't stop staring at how the dark material hugged his thighs or the way it stretched over his–

Mark gulped, his face heating up as he looked away. He didn't dare look at Nick's face. Not that he was given much of a choice a moment later. With a swift lunge Nick was on him like a tiger, one arm blocking his escape route towards Kristina and Anna, the other ghosting over the sleeve of his sweater. Mark hugged his books to his chest tightly, sucking in a lungful of air as Nick pressed closer, his chest inches away from Mark's. He wasn't actually touching him but his entire body was tingling somewhere between fear and excitement.

"I think my tastes in other areas more than make up for that, Mark."

It was the first time Nick had used his first name. He shuddered at the way it fell off his lips; at the sharp inflection on the "T" and the way Nick's voice deepened slightly. Mark's eyes flickered up from the fingers tracing over his sleeve and he looked into those _damn _eyes. Nick's face drifted closer until his eyes filled Mark's entire line of vision. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing. He couldn't remember much of anything. He wasn't even sure if he liked where this was headed. All he knew was that he didn't want this to stop. There was barely a whisper off space between their lips when Nick stopped. Peppermint and cigarettes swirled together as Mark's chest heaved air into his lungs, anticipation flooding his veins. Long, dark lashes fluttered closed for a moment and Mark shuddered again.

"You're not the only one who can tease." The words were whispered against his lips, the hot breath brushing over his lips and making him bite back a gasp. And then the heat that had encircled his entire body was gone. Nick's hand was still resting against the locker next to his head, but the almost-contact had disappeared. He felt numb as Nick mumbled a husky, "See you in class, babe." and strutted off.

"_Damn, _boy. Just _damn._"

Anna and Kristina had finally noticed his presence in the hall and made their way over. Mark still couldn't form a complete thought. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the spot where Nick had been.

"You seriously need to tap that." Jen had appeared too. Mark groaned. The last thing he wanted right now was an earful of why Nick should want her and not him.

"I bet he'd love to hear you make that noise again," Jen persisted. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then added in her sly, conniving tone, "Actually, I bet he'd love to make you scream for him. You've _totally _got screaming bottom tattooed on your forehead."

He chose to ignore her for the sake of his own sanity. "Heading to class now."

"Get busy, Sheme!" Jen's voice echoed after him, "Before I gets up on _dat ass_."

He was blushing furiously when he half-ran into Mr. Base's room, Anna and Kristina arriving not long after. Nick was already reclined in his desk at the back, smirking broadly as they approached. God, he hated that boy, even if he might love the way Nick made him feel. Mark's day was once again not going as planned. There'd been no impromptu trips to the principal's office–at least not yet. He'd had a number of moments where he'd almost slapped Nick again. It'd been hard not to really. After being given his detention schedule with Mr. Base, which meant not only missing Perfroming Arts Club but having to explain to his dad why he would be late to Friday Night Dinner, Nick had been _everywhere._

First, he was blowing on the back of Mark's neck all throughout English. It was so distracting Mark didn't remember anything from that hour except walking in and sitting down. A quick trip to the bathroom between classes had brought him face to face with Nick, who'd asked if he needed any assistance. He'd been at his locker between every class as well– with his locker already _opened_. Mr. Ferguson, the cranky old history teacher, insisted on alphabetical seating arrangements which landed them in two front row desks next to each other. A certain booted foot took every opportunity to shuffle over and tangle itself around Mark's ankle. When the bell rang to signal the change to fifth block Mark had hoped to get rid of him. No such luck. Nick had pressed their sides together as they walked to AP Environmental Science, his wandering hands doing their damnedest to slip into the back pocket of Mark's jeans.

Mark was a ridiculous mixture of annoyed, starving, and horny by the time lunch arrived. He'd spent the better part of Environmental Science half-hard because Nick had been sucking on his pen in an incredibly suggestive manner from across the room. As soon as the bell sounded he took off, darting away from Nick in the madness of the hallway crowd and grabbing his lunch, a small salad, quickly before getting a table around in the corner where he'd hopefully go unnoticed. The only person he knew, once again, was _Nick. _And he did_ not_ want to be stuck with thatarrogant, lewd, sexy asshole for an entire half an hour.

"Trying to make the chase more difficult, baby?"

His forkful of greens paused on its way to his mouth, his lips pursing in aggravation. A plastic tray clattered onto the tabletop next to his own as a warm body pressed into his side on the bench.

"What do you want, Nick?" he demanded, swatting away the muscular arm that was attempting to wrap around his waist.

Nick only chuckled in response, slinging his tattered bag onto the table and taking a bite of greasy pizza. Nick's backpack looked like it had been through a shredder. It was patched and frayed and held together with what looked like several pounds of hot pink duct tape. Mark couldn't understand how it didn't disintegrate at the slightest touch, or why Nick kept the ratty thing. Disgusted, Mark crinkled his nose and slide down the bench towards the wall.

He made a noise of irritation when Nick followed, sliding down so that he was trapped between the wall and his body. Mark glared at him, and then flinched away when Nick's hand pressed into his thigh. He jolted up out of his seat and Nick chuckled again, eyeing him with curiosity, "You really don't like being touched, do you?"

"You have no concept of personal space." Mark shot back, making a grab for his bag and almost head butting Nick, who snatched it up and tucked it between his feet.

He nearly stamped his foot in frustration. His hands curled into fists and it was taking all of his willpower to not slap Nick again as he commanded, "Give me my bag, Atkinson."

"Just sit down and eat, babe." The tone was gentle; the gentlest he'd ever heard from Nick. He was so surprised he just gapped at the other boy. He expected the hazel-green eyes to be boring into him, pupils blow with lust, but they weren't. They were narrowed and focused on a table not far from their own. Mark looked too. Several of the jocks on the football were watching them closely as though waiting for him to make a dramatic exit. Among them he saw Chase and William, whose face was littered with several dark bruises, evidence of his fight with Nick the previous day. Their glares were trained on him, or maybe Nick. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't like it.

Slowly, he dropped onto the bench across from Nick, who had gone back to eating his pizza in silence. He felt something brush against his leg and glanced down expecting the now familiar boot clad foot. He was once again surprised–his backpack was now at his feet. A quick glance at the jocks showed they had turned back to their own meals in disappointment. What was going on? Mark wondered in amazement, pulling his tray over to his new spot. Was Nick trying to _protect _him? That didn't make any sense at all.

"I don't need your protection if that's what you're thinking," he said icily, leaning forward and glaring at Nick again.

"Why would I ever think that, babe?" Nick retorted, not even glancing up from his food, "The hard-on you had all morning is more than enough proof for me that you're a big boy. You can handle yourself just fine, I'm sure."

The suggestive tone had returned and with it came Mark's annoyance. It was really starting to get old, even if it still make him blush to the roots of his hair.

"Just–god–just–shut up." Mark fumbled over his words angrily, digging in his bag for his latest copy of Vogue. He flipped to the page he had dog-eared and promptly ignored Nick's presence in favor of an article about Patti LuPone's upcoming book.

"Supposed to be an interesting read, I've heard."

Mark rolled his eyes and didn't bother looking up. "Oh _please. _Like you even know who Patti LuPone is."

"Of course I do. Same way I know that outfit is Alexander McQueen."

Mark's head shot up of its own accord. He could not believe what he had just heard. It was Nick's turn to roll his eyes and look annoyed.

"Well, I _am_ gay, Sheme. Did you expect me to not be any part of that stereotype?"

The bell signaling the end of their lunch period echoed down the halls. Nick stood up quickly, stuffing his uneaten apple into his jacket pocket and slinging the remains of a once decent backpack over his shoulder.

"I'll see you in detention, babe." Nick gave him a flirtatious wink and a cocky half-smirk before heading out into the flock of students crowding the hallway, leaving Mark far more curious now than he'd ever wanted to be.

For being the shortest part of his day, his unwanted lunch with Nick had given him a lot to think about during his final class, Pre Calculus. Mrs. Krauss, who he'd had the previous year, was a nice, middle-aged woman who adored him. It made replaying the last half an hour in his head a thousand times easier because she already knew he was a good kid and focused on rooting out troublemakers elsewhere.

_Had _Nick been trying to protect him?

Or was he using Mark as a shield?

Neither option made any sense to Mark. Even his friends rarely stuck up for him or tried to stop Chase and William. In fact, the only time they'd ever really come to his aid was when they'd had that Perfroming Arts lesson on theatricality at the end of last year. There was no reason for _Nick_ to do it if his own friends didn't. And as for him being a shield for Nick, the thought was ridiculous. The bruises on William's face were more than enough evidence of that.

But what really confused him was the Alexander McQueen comment. The fact that Nick had known his outfit's designer and might even know about Patti LuPone bugged him a lot more than the jock issue. He knew it should be the other way around but Nick hadn't shown any indication of having any of his interests. The only interests of his that Mark was even aware of was cigarettes, trouble, and himself. He didn't like those options either.

He started in his seat as the afternoon announcements chimed in. The dismissal bell followed and he shuffled out with the rest of his class, stopping by his locker to grab the books he needed for his homework and then trekking to Mr. Base's classroom for his detention. He was still dreading it, but he couldn't help but hope he might get some answers to the questions he now had. Mr. Base was seated at his desk, pouring over papers when he knocked.

"Ah, Mr. Sheme. Grab a seat up front." Mr. Base put down his pen and pulled open one of his desk drawers. He pulled out a worn paperback book and handed it to Mark. "Here, you missed these being handed out yesterday."

Mark glanced down at the cover. _The Count of Monte Cristo_. This must be the first novel for the semester. He was disappointed that it wasn't something he'd already read. He dropped his bag next to the seat by the wall, eyeing the vocabulary list written on the chalkboard next to him.

"I suggest you spend the next few hours reading what has been assigned for tomorrow." Mr. Base had settled back into his desk chair. With a glance at his wristwatch he added, whether out loud to himself or to Mark was anyone's guess, "Why do I get the feeling that Mr. Atkinson will not be joining us?"

Mark looked at the clock on the far wall. Their detention was set to start at half past two. It was a quarter until three. He hated that he wasn't relieved at the thought that Nick was skipping. He wanted answers. And when Mark Sheme wanted something he did everything in his power to get it. After another five minutes of watching the door and the clock, he decided to take Mr. Base's advice and settled in to read until five o'clock.

Loud footsteps he connected with the heavy boots that spent more time rubbing against his calves than walking echoed in from the hallway. Nick appeared around the doorway, jacket slung over his shoulder and a few books carried at his side. Somewhere in the region of his throat, Mark's heart twanged like a rubber band. Nick's dark curls were soaked with what Mark could only assume was water. The beads were slowly dripping down onto his shirt leaving dark spots in the green fabric. He dropped into the desk next to Mark with a crooked smile and Mark suddenly had an eyeful of the toned muscles of Nick's left arm. He sucked in a sharp breath and looked back at his book.

"How kind of you to join us, Mr. Atkinson." Mr. Base was bearing down on them, and he was suddenly much less kind than he had been with Mark. He thrust Nick a copy of the assigned book and said in clipped tones, "You'll stay an extra half an hour to make up for your tardiness."

Nick just grinned mockingly at him and gave a cheekily little salute. The next hour passed in silence. Even though Mark had his face buried in his book his eyes kept drifting to Nick. Every time he'd seen him today he ended up with more questions. Nick, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice his inattention. Much to Mark's surprise his eyes were glued to the textbook on his desk, pencil tapping furiously against the pages while his tongue piercing clicked in time against his teeth. It was a good thing he was already unfocused because the fast-paced beat would have made it impossible.

He really needed to stop staring and read. But the more Mark looked the harder it was to turn away. Fantasies were chasing each other around in his head, getting progressively more provocative and salacious. _Soft, pink lips traced a wet path up the column of his neck. Rough, callused hands were gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as their bodies rutted against each other. Teeth were scraping and nipping, moving up to bite roughly on his earlobe. A warm tongue flicked out to sooth the bitten skin.._. His own teeth pierced his lip as he fought down a broken moan. He shifted around in his chair, discreetly trying to rearrange himself in his pants.

The movement caught Nick's eye. Suddenly very aware of himself, he sat up ramrod straight trying to look as dignified as possible when his cock was throbbing painfully in his tight jeans. Thank god he'd worn a knee-length sweater today–at least it covered up the straining bulge.

He risked a glance at Nick and felt his breath stutter in his chest. As inexperienced in sex as he may be he wasn't completely obtuse. Those _damn_ hazel-green eyes were darker than he'd ever seen them. His skin prickled as if it was blistering under Nick's hot gaze, another shot of arousal curled in his stomach.

Nick was giving him bedroom eyes.

_Fuck._

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and glared hard at his book willing it to transport him to the safety of his bedroom where he could finish his fantasizing without an audience. Another painful throb made him shift in discomfort. God, he _hated_ that boy.

His brain was becoming so fuzzy he barely heard the scrap of a desk chair as Mr. Base stood up and stretched. Some coherent part of his brain registered his teacher saying he was heading out for a quick bathroom break and that they had _both_ better be in same spot when he returned.

Clearly, Nick hadn't heard the last part. As soon as he was out the door, Nick was out of his desk, and _oh god_, there was no mistaking the bulge now at his eye level. And then he was yanked out of his seat, strong hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater and pressing him backwards against the chalkboard. He almost squawked out a protest about ruining his brand-new Alexander McQueen but then Nick's hard body was sealed against his own, crushing him against the chalkboard. A hot, needy mouth found his and this time he did nothing to stop the broken moan that came rushing out of him.

Nick took the opportunity, thrusting his tongue between Mark's parted lips and forcing Mark's legs apart with his knee. Mark's head was spinning. The chalk tray was digging sharply into his ass but _god_, he didn't care. There were teeth and tongues and hot breath everywhere–nothing of the sweet innocence he'd imagined in his first real kiss. Strong hands were tracing the sides of his body finally settling on his ass as their tongues dueled for dominance. His hips jerked forward on impulse when Nick drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down harder than was probably necessary. Nick groaned throatily in response and sucked harder on his lip. The vibrations sent shockwaves of heat straight to his cock and his hips jerked wildly again. But this time Nick's hips surged forward, thrusting down hard against Mark.

He felt like he was shattering into a million pieces. He couldn't believe anything that was happening as he torn his lips away from Nick's and sucked down a gallon of air. But Nick didn't stop. His hungry mouth attached itself to Mark's jaw and neck, his teeth scraping against the alabaster skin. He was relieved when he was easily hoisted up and pressed more firmly against the chalkboard, his legs wrapping tightly around Nick's waist. The ache from the chalk tray digging into his ass was eased and he no longer had to worry about his legs collapsing beneath him.

Nick's mouth sought out his again, his hips rolling slowing against Mark's as he held him up against the wall. The fact that he was strong enough to support all of Mark's weight just turned him on even more. Quick, panting breaths seared over his lips as Nick pulled away just enough to whisper against his mouth, "_Fuck, _I want you so much."

Mark whimpered and did the only think that made any sense in his hormone-addled brain. His hand tangled into the dark curls at the base of Nick's neck and yanked his mouth forward, crushing it against his own. Nick hummed against his lips, increasing the tempo of his hips, and digging his fingers into the skin stretched over Mark's hipbones.

If they kept this up he knew he'd have bruises in the morning, and his favorite pair of jeans would be absolutely ruined. He still couldn't find the willpower to care. His hand traced down the defined muscles off Nick's broad back, down to the dip of his spine where his fingers pressed into warm, slightly damp flesh. A deep moan vibrated against his lips as his fingertips dipped under the waistband of Nick's jeans–

Something outside in the hallway shattered. With a gasp, Mark torn his lips away from Nick, his feet falling back to the tile floor as he shoved the other boy off of him. It was like somebody had flipped a switch to his memory. Nick. The boy who'd landed him in detention and been borderline sexually harassing him since the moment they'd met. And he, Mark Elizabeth Sheme, had just spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes having clothed sex against a _chalkboard _with the same boy. No. Just _no._ How could he let that happen? Why the hell did it have to feel so unbelievably _good_?

Mr. Base appeared in the doorway, his hands full of the shattered remains of what had been a ceramic coffee mug. His shirt and tie we're splattered a rusty brown and he was cursing under his breath. Mark slide back into his seat unnoticed, ignoring Nick, who was still standing in the same spot, breathing hard.

"Ah, Mr. Sheme. You are–" Mr. Base dug through his desk drawer for a small pile of napkins and proceeded to started patting down the coffee stains, "–free to go. Mr. Atkinson return to your seat. _Now._"

Mark unceremoniously stuffed the paperback novel he'd made no progress on into his bag and darted from the room. Once he was in the empty corridor he broke out into a ran or as much of a ran as he could manage when he was still half-hard in his jeans.

There was no way, absolutely no way, that what he had just done with Nick Atkinson could _ever_ happen again. Mark couldn't look at a chalkboard without blushing the next morning.

He'd never had more trouble trying to follow a lesson than he did in English. Because the chalkboard where _it_ had happened was right there judging him for the numerous sinful things they'd done against it yesterday. The whole room was just an enormous reminder of how stupid he'd been. Anna and Kristina kept nudging him and passing him notes asking if he was all right but he just shrugged them off. There was no way he could tell them about _that._ They'd only encourage him to let it happen again. Or worse–they'd demand he push the already shattered boundaries farther.

Behind him Nick was uncharacteristically quiet and well, not annoying. He hadn't made a move towards Mark at all or even searched him out before class. It put Mark more on edge than when he wouldn't leave him alone.

As Mr. Base droned on about what they had read for today's class, Mark's eyes again drifted to the chalkboard. Heat flared up his neck and crept across his cheeks like hot lava. He still couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened. His first kiss. His first _real _kiss. And it had been with a complete swine, who had only two talents: a knack for trouble and an incredible tongue. He couldn't believe any of this had happened. If he spend the rest of his life kicking himself in the balls for it he wouldn't be surprised. Never had he imagined that he would cave to Nick Atkinson so easily. Or ever for that matter.

Even if Nick's lips were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. And the metal bead of his tongue ring had felt amazing sliding roughly against his own...

He smacked his hand resting on the desktop to stop his thoughts from spiraling. It was this exact train of thought that had gotten him into this mess.

The people around him were staring at him. Oops.

God, he was losing his mind.

At the bell he scooped up his things and left before Kristina or Anna could start questioning him about how weird he had been acting. He knew them well enough to know they'd try to follow him though. So he went into the one place they wouldn't dare follow–the boys' bathroom.

It really was a last resort for him. The last time he'd been in a boys' bathroom, besides the one in the locker rooms, had been at the beginning of the previous year when Sam had tried to give him a swirly. Needless to say he'd been far from eager to return. He slipped inside quickly, keep his eyes downcast and praying that he was alone. A fast scan of the gap under the stall doors and the urinals made him breathe a little easier. He was alone. For now at least.

Mark dropped his bag under the closest sink and turned the faucet on full blast. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced. Even with the extra twenty minutes of skin care this morning the cut on his cheek was impossible to miss against his pale skin. Cursing under his breath he pulled a small bottle of facial cream from his back pocket, set it on the edge of the sink and bent down to splash his face–

He gasped loudly, swallowing a mouthful of water.

As quick as lightning a pair of hands had grabbed his hips, fingers squeezing tightly–possessively– into his flesh, and a warm, hard body had pressed him forward into the sink. He gripped the rim of the sink hard as he straightened back up, rapidly blinking the water out of his eyes as he tried to see who the hell had cornered him.

In the back of his head he already knew the answer. _Nick. _It thrilled and terrified him to no end. Every inch of him was already tingling with want. Then he remembered his promise to himself–he would _not_ let this happen again. He made a move to twist away from Nick but he was suddenly prevented by a strong arm curling around his waist. The other hand remained on his hip, rubbing slow circles into the fabric of his jeans.

"Relax, baby." Nick's lips lightly skimmed over the curve where his neck and shoulder met. Mark's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the prickly stubble on Nick's chin as his lips traced over his neck. "Nobody's going to bother us. I locked the door."

_Oh Jesus Fuck._

The arm around his waist tightened possessively as Nick's lips firmly attached themselves to his neck, nipping and sucking hard. A shuddering breath fell from Mark's lips and his head dropped back onto Nick's shoulder before he could stop it. God, the things this boy made him feel.

He moaned softly as Nick shifted behind him until they were flush together, the other boy's hard cock pressed firmly against his ass. The contact made him whimper, with longing or disbelief, he didn't know. Nick was hard already. Hard for _him._ The thought still didn't completely register in his head. And god, if he didn't feel big as he pushed against him again. He felt more than heard Nick groan as he ground back against his hard-on, the rumble deep in Nick's chest vibrating across his back.

Smooth lips were still firmly glued to his neck, lips parted and tongue lapping gently against the swollen skin, leaving no doubt that there would be a mark in their place later. Deft fingers were yanking at the hem of his shirt, desperately pulling it from the waistband of his pants as he clutched onto the sink to stop himself from collapsing to the floor. As soon as his shirt was loose Nick's callused hands were rubbing every part of his stomach he could reach. Mark gasped sharply at the sudden and entirely new contact. His right hand shot up, gripping hard onto the curls on the back of Nick's head.

His eyes drifted shut as he tangled his fingers into the soft curls. Nick's rough hands traced over the toned muscles of his stomach heading higher to his chest as he grinded against him. He'd never been touched in such a way before. He'd never had anybody make him feel so _incredible_ before. How had he ever gone without this? How the hell was he supposed to have a defense against something he wanted so desperately?

It would be so easy to just let go–to let Nick completely ravage him senseless. Nick's hips bucked against him again, pushing his own hard-on against the porcelain sink.

"Stop."

From a great distance he heard his own voice tremble out the word again, but he really didn't expect it to be obeyed. Suddenly, the fingers that had been tangled into Nick's hair was grasping at air. Cold air brushed over the skin on the back of his neck. The water in the sink was still running full blast, some of it rebounding against his exposed navel.

He shivered, glancing into the mirror. His face was flushed a rosy pink, his hair slightly tousled. The skin where Nick's mouth had been attached was discolored and turning a dull red. behind his own reflection stood Nick, still extremely close to him but no longer touched. Mark turned the water off and stepped away from him, making sure to put several feet of distance there.

"I don't want you touching me anymore. This stops now." Mark said in his most authoritative tone. He was still surprised that Nick had stopped at his command–he'd half expected he'd have to physically fight him off.

Nick's expression was unfathomable. He blinked slowly and something dark flickered in his eyes. Mark shivered. He was making the right decision, he told himself as he grabbed his bag and left. There were so many things he didn't know about Nick and so many reasons for him to want nothing to do with the delinquent.

So why did it hurt him so much to say that?

His friends were on his case the moment he stepped into Mrs. Olsen's classroom for fourth block. To make matters worse, Georgia kept playing with the scarf he had grabbed from his locker to hide his hickey. The snappy demands for her to stop may have slipped over Anna and Kristina's heads but when they finally settled down together at lunch, Jen joined them. Needless to say, she caught on to his scarf's real purpose fairly quick.

"I see you took my advice, Sheme."

Mark choked on his mouthful of chicken.

"W-What?" he gasped, trying his best to sound innocent. If there was anybody he wouldn't be able to foul it was Jen.

"Don't play stupid," Jen said snidely, "You've been getting your wank on with that hot delinquent." She looked thoughtful as Anna and Kristina looked completely baffled. "Such a shame. I really wanted a piece of that..."

"Seriously?" Anna said in disbelief, "Are you sure they didn't use part of your brain when they did your boob job? Mark won't let that guy near him, right?"

Mark stared hard at his tray, his face burning. Anna was looking at him expectantly.

"Mark?"

Jen reached across the table and snatched the scarf from around his neck. He made a dive for it, but it was too late. His hickey was in plain view from the girls. He heard Kristina gasp in amazement on the other side of Anna.

"Oh my god, Mark! Tell us! Tell us everything!"

The girls, minus Jen, were squealing in delight. Anna had even grabbed his arm and was bouncing them both up and down in her excitement.

Mark buried his face in his hands as they continued to pester him. He knew it was no use. He'd have to tell them something.

"Boy, give us all the details." Anna said with an enormous grin, "All the _dirty_ details."

Mark just shook his head in disbelief and said matter-of-factly, "There isn't much to tell."

Liar, he scolded himself. There was so much more than he could form into words.

"Come on, Mark. Or are we going to have to let that hickey speak for itself?"

"_Fine._" He thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to not tell them everything, but to tell them enough to make them stop. "Mr. Base left us alone for like ten minutes during our detention and well... you know how he is."

When the girls still looked expectant, he sighed heavily and added, "And he kissed me, okay?"

That was what they'd been waiting for. People at the surrounding tables looked over in alarm as the girls exploded into squeals and laughter.

"I'm so happy for you!" Kristina cried, getting up and hugging him tightly. "So are you two, you know, like a thing now?"

"No. Absolutely not." Mark answered sharply. "He forced that kiss on me. And ruined my sweater."

"He ruined your–what?" Jen was staring at him, intrigued.

_Oh crap._ Why did he have to let that slip?

"I–he–" He was getting flustered and the girls looked thrilled at the fact. They just kept smiling in a knowing way as his face burned under their looks.

"_He shoved me up against the chalkboard, okay?"_ he hissed across the table at them.

Their jaws dropped, and they shared another excited glance. Before they could question him further the bell ending lunch rang. He breathed a sigh of relief as they headed back to their class. Now all he had to do was hope none of them let any of their conversation slip to Jake. Because if Jake found out it was only a matter of time before his father did.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be at Perfroming Arts Club this afternoon to do damage control. He groaned as he retook his seat in Mrs. Olsen's classroom. He was so screwed. When Mark finally saw Nick again in Chemistry he was surprised. No comments or devastating looks were cast his way, not even the briefest of eye contact was made. If he'd known it would be that easy to get Nick to stop he would have said it the moment they'd met. He still didn't really understand why he _had _stopped though.

Since when had Nick ever respected anyone's requests of him?

He couldn't get the look that had shot through Nick's eyes out of his head either. The first thought he'd had was that his rejection had actually hurt Nick, but really they'd been playing cat and mouse since Tuesday. If anything the more difficult Mark made things the more obsessively Nick pursued him. He honestly didn't know what to make of that look, but he was certain he may have been given his first tiny glimpse into the enigma that was Nick Atkinson.

Half way through the class Nick was once again finished with the assigned lab. Without a word, he dropped his lab report onto Mrs. Mentore's lap, ignored her demands for him to return to his seat, and walked out.

That afternoon' detention progressed in a similar fashion. Nick was on time but incredibly belligerent, tapping his pencil, clicking his tongue ring and smacking his ankle monitor against the leg of his desk until Mr. Base threatened to keep him there until the janitors kicked them out. After that he'd slouched down, dropped his head onto the desk behind him and fallen asleep until five o'clock.

Mark didn't understand the sudden lack of interest, or more importantly why Nick _not_ taking an interest in him was so annoying. He hated Nick and everything he did and said, so why wasn't he overjoyed that he was finally leaving him alone?

Why did watching Nick stare at another guy–an impossibly _straight_ guy– in English the next morning make him hate the boy even more but at the same time want to pin him against the chalkboard? It happened again in their history class. Even though they were seated right next to each other, Nick's eyes were focused instead on the Cheerio girl on his other side, pointedly ignoring Mark's existence.

It wasn't until he dropped down at his usual table for lunch, spotting Nick practically _eye-fucking_ the same Cheerio across the room, that he realized what the hot sensation that had been bubbling in his chest all day was.

He was jealous. Dear god, he was _jealous_ because Nick didn't have eyes for only him anymore–or at all it seemed.

The Cheerio girl was practically in Nick's lap now and tugging playfully at a stray curl on his forehead. Mark glowered at his food, moodily stabbing at the lettuce. Suddenly, he didn't have much of an appetite anymore.

There was no way he was jealous. Jealousy was only a possibility if he _liked_ Nick, and there was no way he could possibly have feelings for him. The boy had been driving him absolutely insane for almost four days. There was nothing he liked about him at all.

And so what if they'd made out against a chalkboard? Or done _whatever_ that had been in the bathroom. That didn't mean he _liked_ him. They were hormonal teenage boys and Nick was the first attractive guy to ever take an interest in him. He'd just taken an opportunity to gain some experience. Yes, he decided, that's all it had been. There was no way he could be developing anything except loathing for Nick Atkinson.

By the time he arrived for detention that afternoon, he had completely settled that his jealousy wasn't actual jealousy. It was just...he didn't know what to call it. But it wasn't jealousy. It _wasn't_.

Mr. Base was at his desk grading their in-class writing assignments from yesterday and simply waved his hand towards the front row of desks. The gesture was rather pointless. Mark knew the drill by now. He dropped into his desk and dug out his history homework. Two and a half more hours and he would be free from detentions and Nick for an entire weekend. He couldn't believe his first week had dragged by so slowly. His only hope was that it wasn't foreshadowing what the rest of the year would be like.

At least he had Friday Night Dinner to look forward too. After explaining to his father that he had to stay after for a "French Club meeting" they'd arranged instead to go out with the Hudsons to some new Italian restaurant across town. They were even picking him and Jake up from school. Jake was staying after for football practice.

Like on Wednesday Nick arrived a good twenty minutes late, hair dripping wet, trails of water trekking down the stubble on his cheeks and neck. Mark glared furiously at the intrusion on his concentration, trying to ignore one particular bead of water sliding down along Nick's jaw line. He just wanted to catch the drop on his tongue and suck the slick trail off Nick's face. Wanted to feel the sharp little hairs against his lips, and scrap his teeth against them...

He tensed as Nick took the seat next to him, burying his mind back in his history textbook as Mr. Base told Nick he was staying late again. Mark gritted his teeth as the smell of peppermint wafted over from Nick's desk. Just two more hours and he'd be free of him for two whole days. Unlike the day before, Nick was silent. Only the scratching of his pencil could be heard as Mark continued to read. At half past four something started buzzing on Mr. Base's desk.

They both looked up to watch him grab the cell phone vibrating across the desk. With a quick look at the screen Mr. Base stood up and said, "Sorry, boys. Have to take this call. I'll be in the hall."

He left, shutting the door behind himself as he picked up the call. His muffled voice faded away as Nick stood up, stretching his arms high over his head. Mark stared openly as his shirt was pulled up revealing a dark trail of hair and an exceptionally defined stomach, the v-shaped muscles tapering off down below his waistband.

Nick saw where he was staring and just smiled in amusement, walking away from him to stretch his legs around the front of the room.

Mark shifted his gaze away and regretted it at once. The chalkboard was right next to him. Instead, he cleared his throat as Nick paced. But the silence was too awkward for him. There was never silence between them. Nick was always making some ludicrous noise or they were bantering or they were–were _moaning._..

He gulped, cursing his brain for being allowed to remember things. Disgusted with how easily Nick had corrupted him and turned him into a gooey puddle of sexual frustration. Yes, he _definitely_ hated him, and not liked him. No doubt about it.

His eyes slowly trailed up Nick's body, taking in the same tight jeans from the day before, but a different pair from Tuesday and Wednesday, and the tight white shirt. His usual leather jacket was absent and so was his eyebrow piercing. Mark didn't know how he'd miss it before, maybe it was because he was too busy starting at Nick's ass–

Get a grip, Sheme, he scolded himself. The newly awakened part of his brain added,_ Get a nice grip on that ass._

It took every ounce of his willpower not to smack his head into his desk. All of these thoughts and urges and ideas were _all_ Nick's fault. He couldn't stand how much control Nick had over him without even trying.

Parts of Nick's shirt were still damp around the collar. Mark eyed it for a moment, and decided he might as well ask. He wanted to know and it would stop the tense silence between them.

"Why are you always wet when you're late?"

Nick had stopped his pacing and leaned against the chalkboard next to Mark's desk. He eyed Mark for a long moment and seemed to decide the answer was harmless because he supplied, "I've got weight training seventh block so I take a shower after."

Mark had a sudden vision of Nick, naked and standing under a steaming hot spray of water. His entire torso stiffened at the mental image, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He would not fall apart and let things get out of hand again.

Nick leaned down, palms flat on his desk, face so close his breath was tickling his ear. "Why do you want to know so badly?" he whispered, his voice low and gruff, "Planning on surprising me sometime, baby?"

Mark needed to get away from him. To put some sort of distance there. He shoved Nick away and started pacing the same path Nick had been pacing moments before. He was just pivoting around from his second route when Nick was unexpectedly right in front of him. Startled he backed away, finding himself once again with his back to a chalkboard. Arousal pulsed through him as Nick moved forward, hands resting on the chalk tray on either side of his hips.

Hazel-green eyes were locked firmly on his trembling lips, looking at them like they were some wondrous exotic creature he'd never encountered before. But one he couldn't wait to claim as his own. Mark shuffled his feet helplessly as another shot of arousal set his nerves on fire. God, no, he'd sworn he wasn't going to let this keep happening.

"I told you not to touch me, Atkinson." His voice sounded breathless even to his own ears. Why did he even bothering saying anything? Now Nick knew that he was already getting to him.

An insanely hot chuckle echoed in his ears as Nick retorted teasingly, "I'm _not _touching you, Mark." he paused and blew his hot breath into Mark's face. The scent of peppermint and cigarettes made Mark's knees weak as he continued, "But we both know damn well that you want me to."

So that's what this was, Mark realized. Nick knew just how irresistible he was to Mark and he was toying with him. Not that Mark had done anything to exactly hide the way Nick made him feel. It still didn't explain why he'd stopped when asked. He didn't know. It was extremely difficult to think when Nick so close.

Maybe that was all part of enticing him; luring him in for the kill by taking away what Mark wanted most of all. Because _god, _he wanted Nick. More than winning Regionals or living in New York or starring in a Broadway musical. He wanted those strong arms wrapped around him as they kissed fiercely, holding him together while his entire consciousness collapsed because of how complete he felt in Nick's arms.

The image of the Cheerio girl tangling her fingers in Nick's hair flashed across his mind. And then he did something he knew he was going to regret no matter how much he wanted it right now. He dug his fingernails into Nick's scalp smashing their lips together in a heated kiss. His lips were already parted as he pressed at Nick's shoulders, his tongue demanding entry into the heat of Nick's mouth.

He was pleased to find that he'd taken Nick by surprise and this time it was Nick gasping against his lips. The hesitation only lasted for a fraction of a second. Nick pressed his lips against Mark's hard, letting Mark's tongue slip inside his mouth to tangle itself around his own. They both moaned, fumbling for a hold on each other's hips and slamming against the chalkboard. Mark shoved back from where he was once again pinned against it, forcing Nick roughly against the chalkboard. Nick groaned in ecstasy letting Mark grind against him. A hum of victory rumbled in Mark's throat at the shift in power but it didn't last.

Both of their tongues were forced into his mouth instead, Nick's thrusting tantalizing against his own, the smooth metal of his tongue piercing making him hard as a stone. Mark growled in frustration as Nick pushed him back, flipping him over and back to their original positions.

"God, I _hate_ you." Mark snarled, his voice raspy and deeper than Nick had ever heard it as they pushed against each other, tongues clashing.

"What in the world–"

They broke apart gasping. The door had opened without them noticing. Mr. Base was gaping at them, his face red, completely speechless. Mark moved away from the chalkboard immediately, the wheels in his head turning rapidly as he tried to think up some story that could possibly prevent him from getting more detention. But Mr. Base was only staring at them, somewhere between amazed and disgusted.

"Boys–I–just–"

He stuttered helplessly, more embarrassed than either of his students. "Just–er–g-go. Now."

They didn't need telling twice. Nick hitched up his bag and led the way out of the room. Mark caught a glimpse of the clock before he left. Five minutes until five. He would be just on time to meet his dad and Carole in the parking lot.

Nick turned off at the first hallway and Mark kept going. What had he been thinking? Why did he even bother telling himself not to let it happen? Everything indicated that it was going to continue whether he thought it should or not. He burst out into the bright September sunlight, scanning the parking lot for his dad's old Mustang. He always drove that when he went out with Carole.

He spotted Jake before he saw the ruby red car. Behind him the door slammed open and Nick appeared at his shoulder. Mark ignored him and started across the parking lot to where his dad was waving him over. Something whacked against the pavement behind him and he couldn't resist looking only to have Nick roll up next to him on a beat up looking skateboard.

Well, he definitely wasn't expecting that. For some reason his mind had created the image of Nick's transportation as a rumbling motorcycle. Then he spotted the ankle monitor he still had no answer for, and made a guess. He probably wasn't allowed to have a vehicle or a license. From the little Mark knew of ankle monitors, Nick was only allowed a certain distance from his house. Since he was going to school he either lived right around the corner or the radius on it was several miles.

The red Mustang had pulled to a stop in front of them, the convertible roof was lowered and they were all smiling at him.

"Ready to go, buddy?" his dad called from the driver's seat.

Nick's board squealed to a stop next to them. A cocky grin had taken over his features.

"Is this a friend of yours, Mark?" Carole asked politely, smiling up at Nick.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure friendship's the last thing on either of our minds." Nick said training his lustful gaze on Mark.

"Excuse me?" Niall growled, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He killed the engine on the car.

Mark tried to do damage control quickly. Why did Nick have to be such an ass?

"Dad, it's nothing. _He's_ nothing." he turned to Nick, "Get lost, Atkinson."

"But Jen said you two made o–"

"_Jake!_" Mark screeched, his deadly glare trained on the quarterback, who was looking both alarmed and sheepish.

"You _what?_"

Niall had stepped out of the car, and Carole quickly followed, blocking his path to Nick, who just stood his ground completely unfazed at the angry father ready to strangle him.

"Jen was totally wrong," Nick said, eyes locked on Niall's, "I pretty much fucked him up against a chalkboard–"

Niall lunged and it took both Carole and Mark to hold him back. Jake hopped out to help pull him back, and Mark pulled away as Jake got a good grip.

"You stay the hell away from my son, you punk ass little–"

"Niall, please." Carole pleaded, yanking his arm in the direction of the car, "Let's just go. I'm sure Mark can explain things better at dinner."

His dad was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, glaring at Nick with more hatred than he'd seen on that face in his sixteen years of life.

Cocky smile still stretched across his handsome face, Nick popped his skateboard down and pushed off, calling over his shoulder, "Make sure to mention how much you moaned like a whore, Sheme!"

His father lunged again, bellowing some nonsense that wasn't really words, as Jake pinned his arms behind him. Carole was looking horrified as her eyes followed Nick out of the parking lot. Mark watched him disappear around the corner as well. He suddenly remembered why he'd made that promise to stop letting himself get involved with Nick.

"Alright, spill it. _Now._"

Niall was glaring daggers at his son across the table. Mark huffed in annoyance. He did not want to have this conversation. They'd barely sat down and he was already under interrogation.

"Niall, can it please wait until we get our drinks at the very least," Carole sighed, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. Mark shot her a grateful look, but Niall refused to yield from his chosen path. Sheme men were nothing if not stubborn.

"No. Not after what _that bastard_–"

"Niall!" Carole scolded, looking shocked, "He's just a boy even if he is a little...crude."

Niall clinched his teeth, his eyes narrowing at the memory of the cocky teenager. Mark stared fixedly at the menu in front of him. Next to him, Jake fidgeted in his seat. Mark didn't dare look up. He didn't have to. He could feel his father's eyes drilling holes into his skull as he made his demands.

"I want answers and I want them now, Mark."

When Mark remained mute, resolutely staring at the table, he turned instead to Jake, who looked like he'd just walked out into oncoming traffic.

"And you, Jake? You got anything you want to tell me about all of this?"

Jake opened his mouth, eyes wide, "I–uh–well–"

Mark kicked the taller boy sharply in the shin under the table. Jake yelped at the unexpected harassment, and thankfully forgot about Niall's question in favor of the pain flaring up his leg, "What was _that_ for?"

"What was what for?" Mark asked, pulling his face into a bewildered expression that fooled none of them.

"Mark, don't try and distract him unless you'd rather tell me yourself–"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"It sure as hell didn't sound like nothing!"

"Boys! Can we _please_ save the arguments until we've have something to eat?" Carole interrupted smoothly.

Mark had never been more grateful to have a woman around. Jake quickly agreed as his stomach rumbled. The Shemes glared at each other across the table, and Mark turned away fuming silently. Niall sighed in frustration, and slide out of the booth.

"I need a drink," he decided, heading over to the bar up front.

An awkward silence fell in his absence and Jake quickly made a rush for the salad bar to get away, leaving him and Carole alone. A ruddy-faced man with a terrible attempt at an Italian accent arrived and took their drink orders, two waters and a root beer for Jake. Mark went back to perusing his menu, holding it up to block the rest of the table from view for when his father inevitably returned.

"So what's his name?"

He lowered his menu a fraction and found Carole looking at him expectantly. Her tone wasn't demanding, just gentle and curious. It was really just the thing he needed right now: an objective outsider, someone who wasn't going to try and lock him away and protect him until he was thirty or squeal and pester him for details and muddle his confused feelings even more.

Still he hesitated. This was his father's _girlfriend_. Wouldn't she feel obligated to tell Niall what she knew when he asked? Because Mark knew if his father didn't get the answers he was looking for tonight, he would go to any source who might be able to give them to him.

She seemed to pick up on his uncertainty as she laid her menu flat and smiled at him kindly. Her tone was reassuring as she added, "Unless you're doing something that would harm someone, you know I won't tell your father if you don't want me too, sweetheart. This is strictly one of our lady chats."

Mark smiled slightly at the term. As much as he was adamant of his masculinity he would always be fond of having lady chats. They were just so much deeper and more sensible than how guys tried to talk with each other.

"His...his name's Nick." he mumbled. God, why was he blushing?

Carole's smile brightened and she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "I take it what Jake heard from Jen is true?"

"No!" he said immediately.

"Honey, I think the sudden addition of scarves to every outfit speaks for itself."

So Carole had noticed. Heat was spreading over his cheeks like a wildfire as his humiliation mounted. He corrected himself quietly, "Yes. Maybe. God, I don't know. He just–and his lips were–and my favorite Alexander McQueen is permanently coated in chalk dust–and-and-I just _hate_ him."

He knew he was rambling mindlessly. But he just had to get it all out and tell someone. A warm hand closed over his and he looked up to meet her light green eyes. There was no judgment in her gaze, just something he couldn't name–something in the way she was looking at him, almost as if she knew something he didn't. Before he could process it, the look flickered out and a warm smile was directed his way again. Things may not have turned out like he'd originally planned, but he would never regret giving this woman the chance to love his father and indirectly himself.

"It's okay to like how he makes you feel. To like him, Mark. Even if he's very..." she trailed away, obviously unsure of just how to sum Nick up in one word. He'd certainly make quite an impression.

"Dangerous? Obnoxious? Hopelessly gorgeous?"

Wait, what? He had definitely not meant to say the last one out loud. But Carole smiled and laughed, rubbing his knuckles affectionately.

"I think everyone goes for a bad boy at some point in their lives." Carole said gently, "I first met Jake's father when he was barreling along on a Harley Davidson. He grew up into a very respectable and responsible man." she paused as some of her worry crept over her features, "Just please, Mark. Be careful if things get serious. Chris was just full of himself and trying to be cool. I don't know what kind of trouble this boy is or has been in but I do know how exciting and completely terrifying it can be all at once. He's the first openly gay boy you've met that's your age and I know how lonely you've been when everyone else has someone."

He knew she knew that. Carole was well aware of his pursuit of Jake the previous year, not all the details but enough to know how much he craved what everyone else. Nick presented something he'd never had a real chance at before, but at the same time Mark knew he didn't. A serious, committed relationship without all the drama like his friends suffered through was what he wanted, whereas Nick was clearly just searching for a quick fuck.

"Things won't go any further than they have," Mark informed her, "He's nothing but trouble and the last thing I need is his murder on my conscious because Dad can't control himself."

"He might end up on trial for that regardless of what happens beyond this point."

Mark nodded in agreement as Jake and Niall returned. Two plates, one piled high with a mountain of salad and enough ranch dressing to drown a cat in and a second completely devoted to bacon bits and croutons, clattered onto the table top next to him. His father had a tall glass of beer that was already half gone. Without a word, Jake grabbed his spoon and hefted a spoonful of bacon bits into his mouth.

Mark grimaced, "Ugh. Jake that is disgusting."

" 'hut? Erm hugray." Jake protested, spraying the table with little red dots.

Their waiter returned with their drinks and took the rest of their orders. Niall continued to nursed his drink, watching Mark carefully. He felt like he was being x-rayed under his father's gaze. It was like Niall could see into his head and pull out the memories that would forever be burned into his mind of the things he'd done against that chalkboard. The things he really wanted to do again but knew he shouldn't.

Jake was wolfing down his salad when Niall finally spoke again.

"Mark, I'm still waiting for answers." The authoritative tone was not lost on Mark. A quick glance at Carole offered him an encouraging nod.

"What do you want to know exactly?" Mark said, trying to come off indifferent to the renewed interrogation. If his father wanted answers he wasn't going to make it easy. Or make it obvious that he was lying.

"What's that–that _kid's_"– Niall spat the word out as if it was a terrible swear– "name? Why's he just now realizing that he...plays for your team?"

"His name's Nick and he just transferred here." Mark answered, swirling his straw around in his drink, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. As an afterthought he added, "He's probably been out longer than I have to be honest."

"And he's"–Niall cleared his throat awkwardly staring hard at the wall behind his son's head–"_interested_ in you?"

"He's a moron." Mark said, tiredly. He knew his father was fishing instead of getting straight to the point. It was an unusual tactic for Niall Sheme, but Mark knew how uncomfortable this conversation had to be for him. The thought of Mark growing up and pursuing a relationship with someone like Nick undoubtedly terrified him.

"And you two are–have been–is he taking advantage–or–" Mark took a vindictive joy in watching his father stumble over his words. At the same time, he had no doubt how much his father loved him and that he only wanted what was best for him. How worried he was that Nick might try to harm him was one of the most touching things he'd ever said.

"No, Dad. He just–"It was Mark's turn to clear his throat and shift around uncomfortably, "He kissed me. I told him to stop. That's it."

"But Jen said you two like, made out or something," Jake couldn't stop himself from mentioning the rumors.

"Since when has Jen ever been truthful?" Mark snapped, though he couldn't stop the pink tint that appeared on his cheeks. It didn't help that Carole was grinning like an idiot at him.

"Yeah, I guess." Jake decided, "She's pretty mean about that kind of stuff."

"So what he said in the parking lot..." Niall trailed off, but Mark could hear the hope in his voice. When had his father gotten so adorable? He was so worried about him it was almost sickening.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of us, Dad." Mark lied, keeping his tone light and disinterested, "My virtue is still safe. You can relax now."

Well, most of it was safe, he amended quietly to himself. But his father didn't need to know that.

"I don't care what he's trying to do. I see him anywhere near him and he's a dead man. I don't want you anywhere near someone like him, you got that?"

Mark nodded vaguely as their appetizers arrived. It's not like he actively sought Nick out or something. He really had no control over Nick pushing his way into his life.

By Sunday evening Mark honestly couldn't remember why he'd been looking forward to the weekend. All weekend his father continued to side eye him as though he knew there was more than Mark had told him. He felt like he was under surveillance when he was anywhere expect hidden away in his basement bedroom and Niall sprung prying questions on him whenever Mark least expected them.

Saturday presented him with a tower of homework. Later that night Sarah had appeared on his doorstep, shrilly demanding to know when his detentions were over, what she was supposed to do about sunshine (he had no idea what on earth that was all about), and when he would be returning to Perfroming Arts Club rehearsals. He'd slammed the door in her face, hoping his father hadn't heard from his place in the living room, but no such luck. After another conversation he didn't want to have, he'd been grounded for the following week even though his father had been proud of him for slapping Nick.

On Sunday, he awoke late to an empty house under the impression his father was working at the shop. The sound of the front door opening around four o'clock ricocheted down his staircase, much too early for a shift at the shop to end.

"Hey Mark! Can you come up here for a minute? I've brought some of that veggie pizza you like for dinner!"

The thought of another interrogation when he was distracted but one of his favorites didn't appeal to him but he was hungry. He took his time climbing the stairs and heading into the kitchen where the pizza box was flopped open on the counter. A plate was presented to him as his father leaned over the counter eating his own slice.

There was nothing about this situation he liked. Niall was so nervous it was oozing out of his pores. Mark took a cautious bite of pizza, waiting for the bomb to drop and then–

A stack of pamphlets were dropped down in front of him. For a moment he thought they were some of the ridiculous ones Ms. Pillsbury kept in her office but then he read one of the titles–

Oh good god. His father had found him pamphlets on gay sex. This was not happening. He had to be having a nightmare because this was _not_ happening. The next half an hour had been a blur of things he'd never expected a sex talk to involve. It'd been awkward and painful, but it was a heartfelt gesture he was incredibly grateful for.

_Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter._

And he wouldn't. Because Nick wasn't worth that to him. He'd never been more reassured about his choice to cut Nick out of his life than he was after that conversation. And he was insanely proud of himself as Monday and Tuesday flew by and there were no more incidences between them. Of course, Mr. Base was now going out of his way to assure they were never left alone in detentions but still, progress was progress.

On Wednesday he finally had a tiny ray of hope to brighten his week. He no longer had detention with Nick and as long as he continued to ignore the delinquent in their shared classes he might finally be in the clear once and for all until Nick found somebody else to stalk.

His day was instantly ruined when Mr. Base made an announcement at the beginning of class.

"Already everyone, settle down! I've got your assignments for the first novel analysis made up. Break off into your pairs now please!"

Anna and Kristina shuffled away to their respective partners and Mark mentally prepared himself for a class spent with nobody but Nick to talk to. A chin was suddenly resting on his shoulder and Nick's voice was right next to his ear.

"Mmm, I've been waiting for this project, baby. We'll finally get some _real_ alone time."

"No we won't." Mark scoffed, jerking away from the other boy, "We'll do it in the library or not at all."

"The library huh?" Nick echoed as Mr. Base handed them their assigned section with the due date and guidelines, "I've always wanted to fuck someone bent over a table."

His words went straight to Mark's cock.

"I loathe you." Mark hissed in aggravation, turning away to read the sheet of paper. At the bottom there was a small calendar that had the scheduled due dates. He scanned it for his own name, finally spotted it listed on Friday the twenty-fourth. They had a little more than a week at least but god he was dreading it.

Behind him Nick was grinning lecherously, "Loathe me, huh? I bet you'll change your mind when I'm blowing you under a library desk."

Mark gritted his teeth, cursing the images popping into his head as another jolt of arousal tingled down his spine. Just when he'd thought things were going to start going his way he was now going to be stuck alone with Nick for at least several hours at the very least. And regardless of whether or not they did work on their project in the library he wouldn't put it past Nick to do either of the things he'd just said.

Mark was going to fail English. By the end of class on Wednesday the only thing he'd managed to accomplish was splitting the list of themes they were meant to discuss into two parts.

Thursday morning was a borderline disaster when Mr. Base gave them ten minutes at the start of class to discuss things more thoroughly with their partners. Nick had made one of his typical vulgar comments, Mark had glared at him and demanded to know when he was available to work on the project. The only response he'd gotten was Nick pulling a small pocketknife from his pocket and proceeding to start carving into his desk. Mark's jaw had dropped as the students around them fell silent and turned to watch. The sudden hush alarmed Mr. Base at once. After another tense silence in which Mr. Base, looking completely terrified, had watched Nick continue to vandalize his desk, Principal Von Harten had been called and Nick had been escorted out of the room.

He didn't see Nick again for the rest of the week, but everywhere he turned people were talking about him. Perfroming Arts Club on Thursday had been divided between discussing the insanity of Nick and verbally smacking Sarah down for running off some girl called Sunshine, who apparently had an incredible voice, but was now in the clutches of Vocal Adrenaline. Mark hated that he'd missed so much already. He'd only missed two rehearsals but it seemed things were already out of control.

By Monday Mark was getting anxious. Nick had still not appeared and part of him wondered if they'd expelled him for bringing a knife to school and vandalizing school property. Surely Mr. Base would have told him and arranged for him to join another group. The other part of him–and he hated admitting it–actually missed the stupid asshole.

When the bell for lunch rang later that afternoon, Mark took his time heading downstairs to the cafeteria. Today he had nobody to eat lunch with, and since Nick seemed to have disappeared for good he didn't even have anybody to annoy him.

Much to his surprise as he headed around the corner to his usual table he found it already occupied–_Nick_.

No matter what, he knew he had to do this. He needed a plan for their project because he didn't want to fail.

He approached cautiously, hating how his heart fluttered just at the sight of the dark curls. Nick was straddling the bench, feet flat on the ground, back pressed against the wall, his eyes closed. Mark paused before he reached the table just watching him. His brow was furrowed and there were dark bags under his eyes, the stubble on his face was thicker and darker than he'd seen it in the previous weeks. The softness in his face was what really made Mark pause. He'd only seen it once before and it had been in the same room barely two weeks ago.

"If you want to jump my bones I won't object as long as you don't hold me responsible for the bruises you'll have when we're finished."

Mark just rolled his eyes at the implication and set his tray down. Nick drove him mad but he was starting to just accept that this was how he always talked. The boy just had no filter and was constantly tried to make everything said between them sexual. Even the whore comment had only stung for a few hours–taking anything Nick said seriously was only going to make things more difficult. Nick wasn't worth getting himself all riled up over.

But back to the matter at hand–their novel analysis that was due on Friday.

"And where have you been?" Mark couldn't help but ask, folding his arms over his chest and trying to look annoyed. Not that it really mattered; Nick's eyes were still shut.

"Having marvelous adventures in in-school suspension."

At least that explained some things.

"Right. So when are you–"

"Why don't you ladies get a room so we don't have to watch this again?"

Startled Mark twisted around and came face to face with a trio of lettermen jackets. One person in particular stuck out in his mind–_William_. His entire body stiffened. On instinct he took a step backwards–and right into Nick's chest. There wasn't even a second for him to process this bit of information before a pair of arms had encircled his waist and Nick's cheek was nuzzling against his neck.

"I thought you liked watching, William. Since you never get any action of your own." Nick replied smoothly, his voice even and calm. It unbalanced Mark that he could be so relaxed with three jocks bearing down on them. And then Nick's lips were softly brushing over the skin above his shirt collar, his eyes still trained on William. Mark nearly squirmed away from Nick but he knew if given the choice he'd rather deal with Nick than them.

Chase rocked on the balls of his feet, pounding his fist into his palm. "Man, let's just hit them or something. I don't want a couple of faggots hanging around here."

But Williamlooked more uncomfortable and uncertain than Mark had ever seen him. His eyes were following one of Nick's hands that was skimming over Mark's hip and he bit his lip. They were the same hands that had been responsible for the bruises that had finally faded from his cheeks.

"Let's go, guys. They aren't worth getting detention over."

"Oh, man. Who cares. Let's just hit–"

"No. Let's go." Williamordered, and Chase snapped his mouth shut.

"Run along," Nick waved his hand at them in a dismissal and Mark felt himself being dragged backwards and pulled down to straddle the bench as Nick did the same behind him.

"Lean back," Nick's voice was soft in his ear, but the hand on his stomach was strong and sure, forcing his torso backwards until his back was pressed into Nick's chest. The three jocks eyed them in disgust as Nick's hands slid up his thighs and his tongue flicked out against the sensitive skin behind his earlobe.

Mark gasped at the rush in his head, barely noticing as the boys wandered back over to their own table. It was only as one of Nick's rough hands cupped him through his jeans that he realized how fast things were spiraling out of control...and just how insanely much he had missed being touched like this.

"Break it up, boys!"

Mr. Base apparently had the same lunch shift as them. Mark jerked away at once and made a dash to the bench of the other side of their table, cheeks burning. Nick grinned lewdly at Mr. Base as he continued past them issuing a warning about inappropriate touching before moving off to stop the beginnings of a food fight across the room.

Mark fiddled with a stray hair dangling down his forehead for a moment as Nick leaned back into the wall again, eyes drifting shut, and looking as though he'd never left his spot. He still didn't understand why Nick seemed to be protecting him. Or what he just trying to be possessive and "stake his claim" or something else as ridiculous and macho? Why would he even feel the need to do that with a bunch of dumb jocks?

Mr. Base's suddenly appearance had done one good thing at least–it had reminded him of why he had even approached Nick in the first place.

"I need to know when you're free to work on our analysis." Mark said, keeping his tone business-like and trying his best to block out the fact that Nick's hands had just been all over him a few minutes ago.

"Got detention until Wednesday. So Thursday afternoon unless they lock me away for something else."

Nick didn't even open his eyes as he muttered the answer. Mark sighed in annoyance. Thursday he had Perfroming Arts rehearsals and he'd already missed enough of those because of Nick. And this week in particular he did not want to miss: him and Anna had begun a Britney Spears campaign on facebook and he was determined to get it on the option list for the Homecoming assembly. At the same time, the school library closed at five o'clock and Perfroming Arts didn't end until four-thirty. Even with Nick and himself both being rather smart that didn't leave nearly enough time to work on it.

"I have Perfroming Arts rehearsal on Thursdays until four thirty." Mark told him in irritation. There was absolutely no way he was inviting Nick over to his house; his father would castrate Nick on sight and Mark really didn't want someone who could break into his locker to know where he lived. And then he had a sudden idea.

"What if we meet at the public library across town at five?"

His hopes were instantly dashed as Nick's foot, today covered by a beaten up converse high top, crashed down onto the table. The ankle monitor shined dully in the artificial lights. At this range Mark could see the little lights blinking out a steady rhythm that was almost in time with his heart beat.

"I can't even make it past the grocery store down by Blockbuster." Nick's said and for the first time Mark detected something like frustration there. He'd rarely heard anything but sexual innuendo and arrogance spewed out of Nick's mouth.

Mark thought hard for several more moments. What the hell were they going to do? There was no way he could have Nick over, but what other options did he really have?

Instead of saying what he was preparing himself to be doomed to, he said rhetorically, "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"We could always _do it_ at my place, Sheme." The suggestive tone made Mark frown in disdain. He glanced up to find Nick leaning towards him wiggling his eyebrows. The idea was terrible but he really couldn't think of any other solution right now. And, he reminded himself, at least Nick's parents should be home. At his house his father wouldn't be home until at least six, which would mean an hour alone in a house with Nick. That was nothing if not a terrible idea.

"Fine." he conceded scathingly, "What's the address?"

Nick just smirked at him, "Don't worry about it. You said something about Perfroming Arts, right? I'll just stay after with you and we can head over together."

"_You_ in Perfroming Arts Club?" Mark laughed contemptuously, "Please, Atkinson. You need actual talent to join us."

The bell rang and Nick's smirk just widened as he left without a word.

Nick was once again missing from classes on Tuesday and Wednesday. Mark could only assume he was still under lockdown in in-school suspension. This was fine with him; it gave him time to reassess himself and get his head on straight again. After nearly a week without any physical contact he'd thought he was safe.

But he'd been wrong. So very wrong.

He spent half the day on Tuesday berating himself for letting Nick touch him again the previous afternoon. Because now he couldn't stop thinking–or dreaming– about it. He'd awoken drenched in sweat at four o'clock Wednesday morning with a throbbing erection and the memory of Nick's hand pressed firmly against it still whispering across his skin. Every time his mind wandered in class it fell right back in where his dreams had been cut off. He was completely on edge and it wasn't until he was awoken by another vivid dream on Thursday morning that he realized why.

The week away from Nick hadn't made things better–it had only made the slightest touch ten times more powerful. He'd never known such potent emotions like these could exist but he was starting to realize exactly why his classmates were all obsessed with anything related to sex. Combining the rush of all these new experiences with the hormones running rampant in his veins was bound to barrel over any sort of logic a sixteen-year-old boy possessed.

Thursday dragged on but with one key difference. Nick had returned to classes, still cocky and vulgar and as sexy as ever. It did nothing to help Mark focus on his lessons. But at least it had been on a day with even block classes; he'd have a substantial break between his doses of Nick and it would be a good basis to prepare him for their project tonight. He didn't even want to think about how long that was going to take them to get through.

Nick actually stayed throughout their chemistry lesson that afternoon, fiddling with the different instruments when he once again finished early, much to Mrs. Mentore's displeasure. Eventually she ordered him to return to his desk up front since he was done and Mark was certain everyone in the class gapped in shock when he did just that. After the stir Nick usually caused, it was strangely bizarre to witness.

Mark only remembered the motives behind Nick's behavior when they were finally dismissed for the day and he was happily heading to Perfroming Arts rehearsal. A large hand traced over one of his ass cheeks as he turned the corner to where their rehearsal room was. He didn't even jump at the touch, though he still batted the hand away as Nick asked, "So this Perfroming Arts thing, you guys just dance around and sing or something right?"

Mark just grunted in reply. The hand on his ass had had way too much of an effect on him. It brought back hazy memories from his dream last night. Only the hands had been much rougher. He shook himself as he led the way into the room, half believing he was dreaming as Nick followed him. As cocky as Nick was Mark had no doubt that when Mr. Angelo prompted him, he would get up and sing. Or _try_ to sing, Mark corrected himself. There was no way, on top of everything else that made Nick irresistible, that he could sing. His voice was sexually charged enough without that added component.

Mark settled down into his seat next to Anna, who was staring right through him in astonishment. Nick had pulled another chair over until its legs were tangled with Mark's chair. Mark usually sat with impeccable posture, but he suddenly wished he wasn't so careful about that. It gave Nick the chance and enough space to slide his arm around his waist. Even through the double layers of fabric Mark could feel his skin burning under Nick's grip. Because it wasn't just a light touch. It was tight and possessive and he hated and loved it all at once.

Everyone else in the room had suddenly gone quiet too. Until Jen sidled up and gave Nick a seductive look.

"If you're not getting what you want from Sheme then I am totally yours."

She dragged a well-manicured finger along Nick's jaw line and Mark swore he heard Nick hum quietly next to him. Mark suddenly had the urge to pounce on her and start yanking on her hair. But then Nick laughed, soft and deep, and his nose crinkled up–god, it had to be illegal to be that adorable and hot all at once–as he said, "Not your team, Lopez."

Nick's hand had moved up his back and he hadn't realized how tense her presence had made him until Nick's thumb was rubbing along his spine. "Relax, baby. There's no need to get so jealous."

Mark spluttered indignantly at that comment. He was not jealous. He was _absolutely _not jealous.

Jen flashed Nick a flirtatious wink and said sultrily, "If you ever change your mind, you can totally tap this." The way Nick's eyes followed the sway of her hips as she returned to her seat made something hot coil tightly in his chest.

He gritted his teeth, not sure if he was more annoyed with Nick, Jen, or himself. Okay, so maybe he _was_ a little jealous.

Mr. Angelo finally appeared at the front and announced something about discussing young adult contemporary for their next few lessons. Then he spotted Nick and looked surprised and thrilled all at once.

"It looks like we've got a new potential member, guys!" his eyes fell on the arm wrapped tightly around Mark's waist, "Mark, you-uh, wanna introduce your-er friend?"

"Name's Nick." Nick said simply.

"Well, welcome to the Perfroming Arts Club! Everyone is welcome here, though we prefer to have singers. I know you probably don't have anything prepared but–"

Nick cut him off, "You want me to put on a show?"

"Uh, well. You don't have to today if you don't want to," Mr. Angelo said, trying to be reassuring, "But whenever you feel comfortable enough to give it a go–"

Nick's arm slipped away from his side as he shrugged and stood up, "I'll go now."

Mr. Angelo looked startled at his willingness. He dropped onto his stool behind the podium up front as Nick tugged his leather jacket off and, much to Mark's surprise, grabbed an acoustic guitar instead of employing the band's help. He's been imagining some lewd, fast-paced sexually charge song as Nick's choice. Something acoustic just seemed too...soft for him.

"You guys can sit this one out." he said to the band guys. His tone was more cocky and confident than Mark had ever heard. Oh, he was going to enjoy watching Nick fall flat on his face.

And then Nick was counting off with a few guitar strums and Mark was floored. The thought that Nick might actually be good hadn't even crossed his mind.

"_Is it still me that makes you sweat_

_am I who you think about in bed?"_

Nick would pick an entire song that was devoted to sex and somehow may it even sexier with an acoustic version. Because Mark knew this song; Sam had spent the better part of last semester singing it under his breath in his classes. It was one of the main reasons Mark had opted for so many AP courses.

"_I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck_

_than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me"_

His eyes were boring into Mark's and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away. He was stunned. Sweet God, could he sing. His voice was growly and low and was sending shivers pulsing down Mark's spine every time their eyes met. There was no way that Nick Atkinson was real. It just could not be possible to be this attractive. Mark finally gained enough control to look away only to see Jen fanning herself. The other girls weren't fairing much better and both Jake and Sam were looking irritated at how easily Nick had stolen their girlfriends' attention.

As Nick hit the chorus, Mark felt his heart leap into his throat to pound out a tattoo against his Adam's apple.

"_So testosterone boys and harlequin girls"_

If he'd been standing he would of had to sit down at that falsetto note. Every part of him swooned as that note washed over him. His mouth was dry and licked his lips subconsciously not realizing that Nick was still watching him. Mr. Angelo was looking amazed at Nick's talent but obviously unease at the song choice and the fact that his eyes were focused on nobody but Mark.

Mark stared at a spot on the wall behind Nick's head as the song continued, focusing all of his willpower of controlling the arousal swirling through him. The last thing he needed was to get a boner in front of the entire Perfroming Arts Club. His seemingly inattentive state only drove Nick on, until he was literally growling out part of the words in the final chorus.

"_Testosterone boys and __**harrrlequin**__girls"_

Mark's eyes snapped up and he shuddered at the look Nick was directing his way. Bedroom eyes. The same thing that had been his undoing in their first detention. And he was supposed to go spend however many hours after this alone with Nick to work on that stupid project.

God, who was he kidding?

Whether he liked it or not, Nick Atkinson was going to have his way with him. Only there was really no debate necessary to tell him what he knew he wanted. The girls all jumped up and clapped enthusiastically as Nick returned the guitar to its stand and shot a superior look Sam's direction. It was only Mike's firm hand pushing him back into his seat that stopped what Mark knew would have been an interesting and nasty fight. Nick had shown up and without much effort promptly stolen the title of Sanibel Badass from Sam's grasp. Or at least Mark didn't see it as much effort–it just seemed to come naturally to him.

Mr. Angelo roughly cleared his throat as he walked back to the front. "You've got quite an impressive voice, Nick, but next time censor the language please. And try to pick more school appropriate material."

The arm returned to his waist and Mark did his best to twist away. He was turned on enough without Nick's touch.

"Oh, I will. As soon as Sheme stops being so gorgeous." He moved in to nip at Mark's ear but Mr. Angelo firmly pulled him back, alarmed by the lack of boundaries Nick had.

"None of that during rehearsal." he told Nick sharply.

To which Nick said slyly, yet loud enough for the entire room to hear, "There'll be plenty of that after this at my place."

Most of his friends were gaping at Nick and himself in astonishment. Mr. Angelo cleared his throat again and chose to ignore that comment.

"Alright, guys! Time to work on some choreography for the pep assembly next week."

The next hour was a daze of new steps, twists, kicks, and turns for Mark. Nick didn't join in for this part. He'd taken a seat off to the side, following Mark with his eyes. Even when Jake had the steps down an hour later Mark was still fumbling around. Nick's eyes were slowly dragging up and down his body and Mark could feel the heat of his gaze even from across the room. When it was finally four o'clock Mark was almost relieved and then he remembered–project alone with Nick.

Georgia and Jen had lingered back and were both standing right up against Nick where he was waiting by the door. As Mark approached he heard something that made him snort.

"So you're a dolphin with Mark? Is it fun being a dolphin? Because I've never been a gay shark." Georgia asked, her voice coming out sounding slightly dazed and confused. Nick's eyebrows shot up at the questions, but before he could reply Georgia's gaze shifted to Jen, "Can only boys be dolphins? Or are we dolphins when we have our lady time?"

Mark had never seen Nick looked so confused. It was definitely a nice change of pace. Jen was muttering her own reply as Nick interrupted, finally getting over his apparent amazement.

"Are you high or something?" Nick asked incredulously as Mark stopped next to him. He was so focused on Georgia's nonsense that he didn't even attempt to touch Mark. Perhaps he should start paying Georgia to follow him around, Mark thought.

"No. She's quite sane when she is actually." Jen answered. She seemed to debate with herself for a moment as she eyed Nick up and down. "I know where you can score some good stuff if you wanna watch us get our lady kisses on. Most guys are pretty into that."

"Yeah? Who's your–"

"Okay. Let's go." Mark grabbed Nick by the forearm and directed him out into the hallway. They had a project to do. He couldn't afford to waste any time while Nick got high off of whatever. And he didn't want to think about Nick enjoying watching those two doing _whatever_ it was they called it.

"You've got quite a grip there, Sheme. Bet it'd feel hot as fuck around my cock."

He dropped his hand at once, his face burning in embarrassment. The last thing he needed was that mental imagine. It was bad enough dreaming about it and then jerking himself off to it when he woke up. Nick took one look at his face and caught on to his thoughts.

A sly, dirty grin stretched across his face as they finally reached the exit to the parking lot. "Been practicing on yourself a lot lately, have you?"

His blush crept down his neck and collarbones. If Jesse St. James had shown up to make breakfast on his head he was pretty sure the egg would have been fried within seconds. And somehow, Nick just _knew_ he had been–or maybe he was guessing. Mark hoped he was guessing. There was no way he was that transparent.

"It's none of your business." he spat, digging in his bag for his car keys as he stops next to his Navigator. Nick whistled softly, eyeing the car, as Mark unlocked the doors before hopping in on the passenger side. His hand immediately drifted over to Mark's thigh, rubbing slowly along the inside, creeping higher as they pulled out of the parking lot. The drive over was mostly silent except for Nick's directions to his house and the smack of Mark's hand against Nick's as he tried to bat it away so he could focus on the road. His touch was starting to make Mark feel dizzy and with every inch it moved towards his zipper his cock twitched in his pants.

"It's over there on the left." Nick said, leaning over much too far in order to point out the stop. Mark nearly swerved as he turned into a small parking lot. The sign at the entry–Forestwood Apartments– flickered across his mind before he slammed on the breaks, gasping. There was enough coherence left in his brain to put on the parking brake before he was gone. He didn't care that he was taking up half of the parking spaces at once. Or that the supposed apartment complex looked more like a rundown motel. Nick's hand had finally reached its desKristination and was now slowly palming over his stiff cock.

"_Shit_." he choked out, panting slightly as Nick crawled over the gear shift–when had their seatbelts been unbuckled?– and onto his seat. Hot breath tickled his cheek as Nick nipped along his jaw line from chin to ear, his voice low and demanding as he whispered, "Feels good doesn't it, baby?"

Mark's moan caught in his throat as Nick pressed himself into his side until he was jammed hard again the door. Nick's hand was insistent and firm as it slowly palmed over the length of him through his pants. The door handle was digging sharply into his hipbone as another hand slid up the back of his sweater. He trembled under the touch as Nick's fingers dug roughly into the small of his back, the nails stinging where they bit into his flesh.

This was what he'd been craving. The one thing he hated himself for wanting more of because he just couldn't get enough. An open mouth sucked at his jaw again, teeth scraping sharply over the soft skin.

"When I ask you a question, Sheme, I expect an answer." The hand against his cock started to ease away and Mark whimpered, arching himself up to follow the wonderful heat.

"Does it feel good, Sheme?"

The raw growl in Nick's voice made his stomach twist up as a hand slipped down the back of his pants and into his briefs. His hips bucked at the unfamiliar, yet welcomed sensation as Nick's hand ran over his ass, a finger dipping down between his cheeks. His breath caught as the hand on his ass jolted his hips forward, slamming his cock against the hand still palming over him.

"_Does it?"_

The commanding tone sent another wave of arousal to the pit of his stomach. He loved how controlling Nick was and when he finally looked over at Nick he knew he was done for. His resolve had pretty much crumbled before he'd started the engine. He needed this. Needed to feel the heat of Nick's body against his own like he'd been dreaming about. Needed to finally have that sweet release that he'd been imagining since they'd first kissed.

Suddenly he was lifted up until he was sitting sideways in Nick's lap with a rigid cock pressed against where his ass and thigh met and warm lips mouthing over his neck.

"Do I make you feel good, baby?"

The soft words were whispered against the corner of his mouth as Nick's hands slowly rocked Mark's hips in his lap, grinding him against Nick's cock. Mark's eyes flickered to Nick's again. His pupils were so blown with lust Mark couldn't even see the hazel-green of his irises.

"Yes." His voice came out breathier than he'd expect, but as soon as the word fell from his lips Nick sucked his earlobe between his teeth and Mark shuddered, rocking himself down against Nick's cock, "God, _yes._"

His mouth fell open as he rolled his hips hard against Nick's hand. Underneath him Nick's hips snapped up to meet his when he pressed down against his lap. And then Nick was kissing him, rough and needy and wet.

"Fuck, you're so hot." he groaned as his hand down the back of Mark's pants tightened its grip on his ass.

Something slammed hard against Mark's window and he jerked away his hands reaching for the first stable object he could find–which just happened to be the middle of his steering wheel. His horn blasted off and Nick's hands pulled him off it as a shrill voice shouted from outside, slightly muffled by the window.

"Hey faggots, get the hell out of my parking space!"

A heavy set woman with wild hair was leering at them through the window. She pounded her fist against the window again and Mark jumped.

"Fuck off, Belinda!" Nick hollered back, and the woman sneered, "You don't even _own_ a fucking car."

"It's still my damn space and I don't want you in it, Atkinson." Her voice was so high-pitched it made Mark's eardrums throb. "Move it now before I get Milton out here!"

Nick growled darkly, flipped her off and without even asking, took the car out of park and pulled them off into a spot in the far corner marked visitor. Mark was speechless as Nick killed the engine and flung the driver side door open. It was only on auto-pilot that Mark grabbed his schoolbag and followed. Belinda was still standing guard at her parking space, glaring at them as they headed across the lot to the long, low building.

There was only one story with a crackled and crumbling awning hanging about three feet off in front and supported by several cracked wooden poles. As they passed down to the far side, Mark took in the cracked glass panes on most of the porch lights, one door didn't even have a light. There was a lighter area of siding where it should be but it had obviously been torn off; chunks of the wall had been pulled away from where it should be screwed it. Another room's window looked like it was about to crumble to dust. The glass was completely shattered yet somehow still in its frame. Mark gulped nervously and moved closer to Nick as they stopped at the second to last door. Half of the little bronze number was missing, but the faded paint let him now this was apartment 5C. To his surprise, Nick didn't dig into his pocket for a set of keys, he gave the knob a funny twist and the door popped open.

"You-you don't lock your door?" Mark said in amazement. If he'd lived in a place like this he'd have enough locks on his door to lock every room in Sanibel twice. And a guard dog. And possibly a taser in case the dog was a coward.

"Lock's never worked, babe." Nick grunted. Without a glance at Mark to assess his reaction to all of this, Nick walked inside. Not wanting to be left outside with Belinda, Mark hurried in. The door snapped shut behind him and then Nick shoved a heavy trunk over to barricade them inside.

Mark felt sick as he watched Nick put the makeshift "lock" into place between the door and the busted up dresser. He tested the door, giving it a good tug to make sure it held, seemed satisfied and turned to Mark. His face was stony as he took in Mark horrified expression.

"How are your parents going to get in?"

"Don't have to worry about that." Nick said simply. Mark didn't understand what that meant at all. Did they work at night or something? Would they not get home until after Nick left for school in the morning? Or maybe they were on a business trip?

He'd never seen Nick look so awkward or just_ human_ as he cleared his throat and gestured towards the double wide mattress and box spring on the floor opposite of them.

"I don't have any chairs but we'll have plenty of fun on the bed."

Mark just stared at him and then looked around the tiny room as Nick shuffled over to the little mini-fridge on the other side of the bed. Along the left on the same wall as the door was a large window, with dusty, well-worn curtains pulled shut. The head of the bed was against the adjacent wall along with a tiny wooden night table with a shade-less lamp. The far wall was home to an acoustic guitar on its stand and the mini-fridge Nick was digging through. The wall opened up on the other side of the fridge. From where he stood Mark could just see a mirror and a sink around the corner. As he took it all in he couldn't begin to understand how both Nick _and _his parents could all live in the tiny space, but then he realized the most obvious thing about the place.

Everything screamed teenage boy. The old guitar, the pile of chip bags and crumpled up taco wrappers that littered the dresser; the busted up CD player on top of the fridge; the textbooks piled hap-hazardously at the foot of the bed; the small heap of dirty clothes in the corner by the window; the tangled blanket and lumpy pillows on the bed. There was nothing present that would belong to an adult. Something tight clinched around his heart as he watched Nick plop down on the bed with a can of root beer, staring at him expectantly.

"Let's get this over with then, Sheme. Or should we just get straight to the fucking?"

Mark ignored the comment, but god, the ridiculously cocky persona was starting to make so much more sense to him now. But really it was the only thing that did anymore.

"Do you–" he hesitated, twisting his hands behind his back and biting his lip as he took a few steps forward, "Don't you live with your parents?"

The question sounded stupid even to his own ears. Nick was, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Of course he lived with one of his parents. He wasn't legally allowed to rent an apartment or live on his own. And yet...

A derisive snort was the immediate response to his question.

"No."

Mark just kept staring at the other boy. He didn't even know how to begin to form a response to that. The way he'd said that simple word made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world or was as natural as exhaling. But Mark knew it wasn't. Calling a place like this home wasn't even something he could imagine, let alone being on his own. His father had always been such a vital part of his life.

"But–how–?"

He couldn't even get his mouth to form the question his head needed to be answered. But Nick had always been quick to catch on to things.

"My grandfather." It was said in the same elusive tone as his last response and Mark still wasn't sure he understood.

"So you and your grandfather live here?"

Nick actually laughed at that question, but it was humorless and dark.

"No." he said again, and this time there was an edge in his voice that Mark didn't like. None of this made any sense to him at all. The only thing he was really positive about was that Nick lived here alone. Something sharp prickled in his chest, and for the first time since they'd met he actually felt bad for Nick. He was a troublesome asshole with too much attitude but he was still just a kid.

"Get out."

Mark nearly jumped at the sharp tone. Nick was glaring at him and he looked angry. Angrier than Mark had ever seen him–even more than when Mark had hauled off and slapped him. He took a step back as Nick sat up, but he caught the briefest flash of panic in Nick's eyes before it disappeared.

There it was. Another glimpse into something more. The reason Mark still couldn't completely shake himself of Nick Atkinson. Because regardless of the asinine things he said he left Mark hopelessly intrigued. He'd clawed his way under Mark's thick skin like nobody ever had before and he knew that no matter how many cuts he opened up Nick wouldn't leave until he was good and ready.

"W-what?" He hated that he stuttered over the word as Nick stood up and moved towards him.

"If you're going to look at me like that, then get the hell out." Nick snarled and Mark actually flinched at how furious he sounded.

He'd said too much was all Mark could think. Nick had given him more information about himself than he'd ever planned on and he was trying to back track. They stood several feet apart, Nick glaring at him as Mark tried to figure out something to do or say. From outside he heard Belinda's shrill voice yelling at someone else in her parking space.

"So–er–is Belinda one of your neighbors?"

It sounded even stupider than his earlier question but some of the tension in Nick's shoulders seemed to relax. He eyed Mark for a moment, and for some reason the lack of lust in his gaze made Mark more uncomfortable than when it was present.

A small nod was Nick's only response as he dropped back down onto the bed, and yanked open the drawer on the night stand. He pulled out a pair of headphones as Mark took a cautious step forward. When Nick continued clicking buttons on the portable CD player and didn't start growling angrily at him he sat on the edge of the bed, and dug out his notebook, the assignment sheet, and his copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

"Alright, I split the list for the themes we're supposed to discuss. So you can do this half–"he gestured to the bottom four– "And I'll do these four."

He heard the heavy hum of music start up behind him and sighed. He really didn't want to have to hound Nick just to get him to do his half of their project. He also didn't want to get any closer to him than he had to on this bed.

He really should have expected what happened next. Because every time he didn't want to get any closer or have Nick near him that's exactly what happened. Strong arms circled under his arms and around his chest, the dull thump of the music was suddenly right next to his ears and even if he hadn't been able to make out the words at this range he could of once Nick started singing them.

_" I'm so good that I'm so bad I guarantee I'll be the greatest thing you ever had cause you ain't never met nobody like me and you ain't gonna wanna fuck nobody else again"_

Mark's eyes fluttered closed as Nick's lips attached themselves to his neck. He could feel Nick grinding himself against his lower back and he marveled at the fact that Nick was already hard. Of course, he was already half-hard himself, but he really didn't need to let Nick know that. They needed to focus on their project.

"B -Nick," he gasped as the hands on his chest pulled the top of his dress shirt open. He heard one of the buttons pop and patter away across the stained carpet. "We have to–to–our project–"

His words faded into an incoherent string of delighted noises as Nick pushed his shirt off his shoulders and dragged his teeth over his collarbone, sucking roughly at his skin.

"Relax, babe. I already did all of it."

God, he _would_ have. He'd just gone along with Mark's idea to get him alone–and naked if things kept progressing in the same direction.

His shirt was pushed farther down until it was a puddle around his navel. Mark shivered at the rush of cold air across his bare skin until warm hands pressed themselves against his hipbones. Nick's lips sucked hungrily up the column of his neck as his hands skimmed slowly up and down his sides. And then he gasped loudly as a callused thumb brushed over one of his nipples. He arched his chest into Nick's palm and his ass curved back more, pressing hard against Nick's cock. A deep groan vibrated against his neck as Nick's hips bucked against him. And then the warmth against his back disappeared. On instinct he reached backwards to pull Nick back towards him, or tried to–his forearms were still caught in the sleeves of his shirt. The next second, his arms were yanked free and pulled up and back as Nick's bare chest cemented itself against his back.

He moaned faintly at the contact. _Fuck, _he'd never imagined it was feel this good to be skin to skin against someone. Nick's hands directed his own to hook around his neck and then returned to his chest. He tangled his fingers into the thick curls as Nick's mouth reattached to his the curve of his collarbone. They were both breathing heavily as Mark tipped his face to nuzzle against the side of Nick's head. Anything that brought him closer to this boy and sealed more of their flesh against each other.

Nick's earlobe was against his cheek and then he did something that even surprised himself. He curled his tongue around the shell of Nick's ear, using the hands cupping the back of his head to pull him closer to his mouth. Nick's hips rock forward against his lower back at the unexpected move and his teeth bit down hard on Mark's collarbone as he groaned loudly. And god, if it wasn't the sexiest thing Mark had ever heard.

He twisted his ear away from the reach of Mark's tongue and smashed their lips together, sucking Mark's bottom lip into his mouth. The hands that had been tracing over the soft skin of his chest slipped down, rubbing over his toned stomach and then fumbling with the button on his pants. He hummed against Nick's lips as the pressure against his cock lessened and then Nick's tongue was thrusting into his mouth, licking against his teeth, tongue and the roof of his mouth. And then he yanked his mouth away as Nick's hand slipped under the waistband of his briefs and pulled his straining erection free.

He cried out as stars exploded behind his eyes, his head falling back onto Nick's shoulder as his hips thrust up into the fist wrapped around his cock. God, he was already so ridiculously close. Nick's hand squeezes hard under the head of his cock and Mark rocks his hips into the touch, craving the rough friction. And then the warmth of Nick's body disappeared again and he couldn't decide if this is a sign that they should stop or if he just wanted to scream in aggravation.

Just when he had had enough time to realize how absurd he looked sitting there with his throbbing cock bouncing slightly against the shirt still tangled around his waist, Nick slid off the bed beside him and dropped to his knees, taking his cock into his hand and stroking him firmly.

He meant to moan some word or Nick's name or _something_ but all that came out was "mmmph". Nick Atkinson was on his knees in front of him, pushing his own apart and sliding a hand around to his lower back to pull him towards the edge of the bed. A firm hand was still lazily pumping his cock, giving it a little twist every now and then that made the heat pooling in Mark's stomach coil tightly.

Soft lips were pressing into the skin between his cock and his navel and his arms were shaking too support his upright position any longer. He fell back onto his elbows, trying to stop himself from throwing his head back in ecstasy and just moaning until he came. Because he wanted to watch this. Wanted to see Nick's hand moving over him; wanted to see the dark head of curls sucking hard on the skin of his hip. And then Nick's mouth trailed down to mouth over the base of his cock and Mark didn't even try to stop himself this time. His head snapped backwards, his mouth falling open as he moaned brokenly.

"Oh _fuck, _Nick." He could feel the sweat on his neck and face dripping down to mix with the sheen of sweat on his torso. He rocked his hips up into Nick's hand as Nick mouth over the side of his cock. The stubble on Nick's cheeks scratched against his cock and the heat in his stomach churned as his balls tightened.

Mark whimpered as his stomach and balls tightened and his elbows gave out. He knew he should warn Nick but _god,_ he couldn't even think anymore. His hips jerked up as Nick's other hand reached into his briefs and cupped his balls.

"You've got such a pretty cock, baby." Nick whispered against him, dragging his tongue along the underside and pressing lightly against the ridge under the head of his cock as his fingers gave his balls a light squeeze.

"_Shit, Nick!"_

Mark screwed his eyes shut tight as the heat in his stomach exploded up the length of his cock. He was cumming harder than he could ever remember, panting and gasping so loud it almost blocked out the way his heartbeat was pounding in his ears.

His cock twitched as his cum spilled over Nick's fist that was still slowly jerking him through his orgasm. He laid there panting, his face and chest flushed and his cock dripping. He hissed slightly as Nick hummed against his oversensitive flesh, catching the drip of cum dangling off the head of his cock and licking up the rest from his stomach. And then Nick climbed on top of him, pressing their mouths together and forcing his tongue been Mark's lips. His limbs felt too heavy to move, his brain was like a wire with a short in it, but through his haze he realized that Nick was letting him–wanted– him to taste himself.

Still stupid with his orgasm Mark could only whimper at the thought as Nick straddled his hips and rocked hard against him, groaning into his mouth. He could feel Nick's cock jutting against his hipbone, still painfully hard.

"Fuck, you're so hot when you cum." Nick breathed, licking his way down Mark's neck, nipping and sucking hard and Mark knew he would gladly wear scarves for the rest of his life if it meant that Nick never stopped doing that. He felt Nick shift on top of him, and vaguely heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down as Nick's mouth settled on the collarbone he hadn't yet adorn with hickeys.

To say he was surprised when Nick's hand roughly grabbed his wrist and pushed it into his boxers was an understatement. He'd barely gotten over the surprise of Nick forcing his hand into a tight fist around his heavy cock before he was thrusting into it hard. Once, twice, and then a third and final time before he felt warm, sticky cum dripping over the top of his fist, as Nick let out a loud gravelly moan and collapsed on top of him.

They both lay there panting, their sweaty chests sliding against one another as they came down. From the head of the bed Mark could hear the music from Nick's headphones still pounding away to some fast punk song. He stared up at the cracked ceiling, his heart still pounding, his cock now soft and wet between him and Nick. Nick rolled off of him after a few minutes and sat up, grabbing his discarded tee shirt and wiping the cum off of himself before tossing it into the corner. Mark watched him stand up and stretch, his unbuttoned jeans riding low on his hips as he stuffed himself back into them and zipped up.

He turned his gaze to where Mark was still sprawled out on the bed in a daze and said nonchalantly, "Not bad for a virgin, Sheme. Next time I think you'll be ready for a nice cock in your ass."

"Who says there will be a next time?" Mark spat, suddenly completely embarrassed and offended. The off-handed comment set him off like nothing else could. God, he felt so stupid. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, trying to find his shirt.

"Looking for this?" He turned to see Nick holding up his shirt. Mark reached out to grab it but Nick jerked it back with a teasing grin.

"Give it to me, Atkinson. " Mark snarled angrily, "Or you know what? Fine. Keep it. You probably like souvenirs from all your whores."

Why was he just realizing that's all he was to Nick? A stupid, cheap thrill to get off to and then dump. He would not cry. God, he would not let the tears fall in front of Nick. He'd been so _stupid_.

The smile faded from Nick's face as he watched Mark's face screw up as he tried to hold it all in. But Mark couldn't stop himself from talking now.

"That's all I am to you. Just like what you said to my father in that damn parking lot! I'm just some stupid, inexperienced idiot who you knew you could take advantage of–"

"I don't think you're a whore."

It was said so softly Mark almost missed it. But the awkward look on Nick's face told him he'd heard right. Nick looked distinctly uncomfortable and completely out of his element and Mark paused because really, Nick had given him every indication that he thought the exact opposite. It was really the only nice, sincere or honest thing Mark could ever recall him saying to anyone. As suddenly as it had happened, the usually cocky look took over his features as the mask snapped back into place.

"I've met quite a few whores and trust me. You've got a long way to go if you ever want to compete with them, babe."

He didn't know why that comment didn't upset him like the first one had. Maybe it was because of the slip up Nick had just had, or that brief flicker of something more that Mark kept catching sight of, or maybe it was the dank and dingy little studio apartment that Nick seemed to call home.

He didn't know. But he yanked his shirt out of Nick's grasp and pulled it on as Nick dug out a notebook from the small pile at the foot of his bed. He riffled through it, finally stopping on a page covered in untidy scribbles.

"That's what I got for all those shit themes Base wanted. You can add your own notes or whatever, babe."

He moved the heavy trunk from behind the door and pulled it open. Mark wordlessly grabbed up his bag and walked out, squawking indignantly when a strong hand grabbed his ass and a husky voice whispered, "See you tomorrow, baby. Maybe we can sneak off to an empty classroom and have some real fun."

The hand vanished and the door slammed shut. He stood there, listening to the scraping of the trunk being moved back against the door, still not entirely sure what had just happened. Mark cried himself to sleep that night. He couldn't remember ever feeling as worthless and dispensable as Nick had made him feel. Nick didn't care about him beyond getting a quick fix to alleviate his sexual urges and Mark, as the only other gay guy at Sanibel, was his only outlet.

He hated how fast he'd gotten in over his head against both his father's and Carole's warnings. He hated himself for enjoying what had happened and more importantly he hated Nick. He hated the finger-shaped bruises on his hips and the hickeys all over his collarbone and neck, and especially the one on his hipbone. Nick had strung him along fully knowing how inexperienced he was and how awkward he was with anything of a physical nature and he hadn't cared. He'd gotten himself off and then basically tossed him out like he was garbage.

God, he hated Nick more than he ever had before. His first time being in any way imitate with another boy had been completely ruined. Even the thought of his first kiss made his chest ache. None of it meant anything to Nick because all Nick cared about was his dick.

So he avoided him like the plague once their novel analysis was finished. He made sure there was always somebody else with him wherever he went and when that wasn't possible he got from point A to point B as quickly as possible. Because this time he wasn't going to break his promise to himself: he was done with Nick Atkinson and nothing was going to make him change his mind. That asshole had already ruined enough of his first experiences and he wasn't going to let him ruin anymore.

By the following Tuesday Nick was trying his damnedest to get him on his own. He made a habit of following after Mark and whichever friend he was walking with, shoving his way into their group and breaking up the conversation. Every time Mark made a stop at his locker Nick was waiting with the books he needed for his next class. By their afternoon Chemistry lesson he seemed almost desperate, forcing his way between Mark and his lab partner and trying to touch every bit of him that he could. In an almost panic Mark asked to use the restroom just to escape for a few minutes to get his head together. Even though he'd made the decision he still couldn't control his body's responses to Nick's proximity. It was the worst part about it all really. He hated everything Nick had done but he still thrilled at the tremor of pleasure the slightest touch gave him.

But Nick hadn't given up when he'd left for the bathroom. As Mark came out of his stall he ran right into Nick, who had a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"You know there's really no need for you to play so hard to get anymore, baby."

"I'm not playing anything." Mark replied scornfully, quickly getting over his alarm at being followed and quirking his lips into his patent snark, "I am done with you."

A quick side step towards the sink to wash his hands did nothing to deter Nick.

A deep chuckle sounded in his ear as Nick grabbed his hips, his fingers pressing into the little bruises that hadn't completely faded yet, "I think you and I both know that's a lie."

Mark knew it was going to be next to impossible to get rid of him. He'd given Nick a taste of the one thing he was after. It was like he'd waved an entire bag of candy in some toddler's face but only let him have a little piece of it while he sat there and ate the rest. That simple taste had only turned Nick's want into a full-blown obsessive desire and Mark had to somehow find a way to stop it without giving in to everything his own body still wanted. Because an excited shiver still shot down his spine at the touch, and he'd never been more confused inside his own head when half of him wanted this and half of him didn't. He silently cursed his hormones for completely destroying what had been a competent and intelligent brain three weeks ago.

Still, he'd let things go even farther than far enough and this time he had to be firm until he figured out his own head. Or until Nick gave him something more than testosterone-induced lust. There'd already been too much of that.

Mark turned the faucet off and shoved Nick away, hard. Even though he knew Nick was stronger, the other boy stumbled back a few steps as Mark glared at him, "Do _not_ touch me, Atkinson. I said I'm done with you and I meant it."

He turned to walk out of the bathroom but was stopped by a firm grip on his forearm. There was no denying his surprise when Nick spun him around and backed him up to the wall. The last time he'd told Nick to stop he'd backed off immediately, not pressed for more. Mark could feel the desperation in Nick's touch as he pushed himself against Mark, feel his short, panting breaths brushing over his neck. And for the first time he was scared, so scared he actually froze.

"Fuck, I just–I want you so much, Mark." Nick rested his forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed but not before Mark saw the briefest flash of panic. "I _need_ this. I–I–fuck, I _need _you."

A knot twisted in his stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that Nick's body was sealed against his. He couldn't do this. He'd sworn he wouldn't do this again. Not until he figured all of this out. Maybe not ever. In that moment, he didn't care that Nick was almost vulnerable and open to him, or that maybe Nick did feel something more than just a sexual attraction to him. The rational part of his brain had already made its decision. Nick was just on edge because it'd been almost five days since they'd gotten off and this was all an act to relieve his tension.

"No." He was amazed he managed to keep his voice so steady as he spoke. "I said no and I meant it. I'm not your whore, Atkinson. I'm not letting you climb on top of me every time you need to get off."

He made to shove Nick away again so that he could escape to the safety of the hallway but Nick's hands caught his wrists and shoved them down between their bodies. His heart was thundering in his throat as he looked Nick in the eyes. There was just the smallest flash of something painful before the anger flickered to life, and with the anger came the cockiness.

"Oh, _come on!_" Nick growled in exasperation, "I already told you I don't think you're a whore, babe."

His own anger boiled to the surface at the remark. Nick really didn't understand his perspective on this at all.

"I don't care if you don't think I'm one." Mark spat, trying to shoulder Nick off of him. He knew he was about to really lose it if Nick didn't back off and he really didn't want to know what would happen to either of them if he did. "You made me _feel_ like one. You _used_ me, Nick." He looked away as he trailed off, feeling the sharp sting behind his eyes. God, why did he have to be so emotional?

"Don't worry about that." Nick said quickly, a little lewd smirk tugging his lips, "I can make you feel so much better, baby."

He ground his hips against Mark's and Mark finally just snapped. The leg that had been pinned between Nick's jerked up hard, slamming right into Nick's balls. He saw the absolute shock morph across Nick's features as his eyes shot open wide and his eyebrows scrunched up in pain. It only took a small push to get Nick off of him this time. The other boy stumbled a few steps before crumbling to the ground with a sharp, high-pitched whine.

"That's for using me to get off, Atkinson." Mark said savagely. "I bet it hurts a lot more with a hard-on, doesn't it?"

The door banged shut behind him as he fasted as walk as possible without running back to the chemistry classroom. He didn't want to think about what he'd just done or Nick or anything that had happened since they'd met. As he re-entered the classroom and passed by Mrs. Mentore at her desk he overheard the conversation she was having on the phone.

"Yes, Nick Atkinson walked out of class again. I don't know if he's still in the building..."

He kept walking and re-joined his lab partner, trying to bury himself in their work and to just once forget about Nick.

At Perfroming Arts rehearsal that afternoon he half expected Nick to come swaggering through the door, but he didn't. Ms. Pillsbury's boyfriend, or he thought he was her boyfriend he honestly was never sure with her, stopped by to lecture them about dental hygiene and to make an obviously jealous Mr. Angelo even more jealous. Aft that, Mark sent the majority of class dodging Jen's prying questions and Sam's obscene gestures whenever someone mentioned him and Nick. Because no matter how many times he insisted that they weren't "together" nobody really believed him.

It was just another good reason to hate Nick. He'd turned them into an "item" or as Sam and Jen kept saying "fuck buddies"(he literally cringed at that phrase) without even trying.

Wednesday morning he'd expected a renewed attempt at a make out session or just even a few touches. But he was quickly finding that Nick was full of surprises and never did what Mark expected him to do. He taken his usual seats in all of their classes and if it hadn't been for Mark being so hyper-aware of his presence he wouldn't have even know he was there.

He didn't stare at him, or try to tangle their legs together. There were no shoulder brushes or grabs for his ass. Not even a few inappropriate remarks or actions to keep his detention streak going. Their teachers at least seemed relieved at making it through a lesson without him interrupting in some way or another, but it just unnerved Mark even more. sure Nick had ignored him before, but then he'd been flirting with some random girl and trying to piss him off to draw him back in. Now he was just keeping his head down, like every second of his time was being spent reconstructing himself.

He was never going to understand Nick at all, was he? Why did he even want to? He was supposed to be done with him.

So he followed Nick's lead and ignored him too. Or at least he looked like he was. The uncharacteristic silence drew his attention like opposite poles of a magnet. Had he really hurt Nick with what he'd said? Or was it just because he'd crushed his balls to mush on Tuesday? He had been the kicker on the football team after all so he knew it had probably hurt a lot more than it should have. Maybe he'd heard something from his parents or his grandfather that seemed to be helping him out. Why had his parents even disappeared in the first place? Was it because of how much trouble he was or, and he really didn't want to think it was true, was it because they'd fought out he was gay? He didn't even know how long Nick had been out or how long he'd been on his own. Or why he couldn't stop mulling over all of this in his head when he should be focusing on what Mr. Ferguson was saying.

Thursday afternoon he was finally given something to take his mind off of Nick. Mr. Angelo had caved in and was letting them doing a Britney Spears number at the pep rally the following afternoon. The only problem was Mr. Angelo's sudden desire to take part in their performance. He didn't even want to think about the why behind that one. An extra hour of rehearsal spent learning some vigorous choreography and working out the vocals sent him almost straight to sleep after a quick dinner with his father.

He was extremely offended after their pep rally fiasco by the time school let out on Friday. Everything had been going spectacularly until Coach Sylvester had feared the worst and pulled the fire alarm. Mr. Angelo had sworn them off doing anymore Britney numbers and instead went back to his boring, repetitive lesson plans.

Then the thing he was dreading happened the first Wednesday in October. Mr. Base handed out their assignment plans for their second novel analysis and returned their grades and notes for the first. He wasn't surprised by the ninety-eight scribbled in red at the top of their returned one, Nick's notes had been incredibly detailed and in-depth. It was the thought of having to spend time, potentially alone with Nick again, that worried him. Nick, much to his surprise didn't appear keen on the idea either. He made a few half-assed remarks when Mark tried to work out a time and place for their project and eventually just gave up. The other boy had never been so uncooperative, but at least they were one of the last groups again. It was only the sixth and the eighteenth was a long way off. He had more important things to focus on this weekend than a stupid project with Nick.

The annual Sound of Music sing-along was this Friday and even if his dad was upset that he was ditching on Friday Night dinner again, he'd only sort of cared. They had those dinners every single week, it wasn't the end of the world if he missed a couple so he could hang out with Anna and have a fabulous night. Nothing was doing to ruin his day, not Nick, or their project, or even being partnered with Chase in French class. He'd make it up to his father over the weekend somehow, maybe by hanging out at the shop and helping or going to see some stupid action movie he'd fall asleep during.

He was halfway through a French rant insulting Chase and telling him how much fun he was going to have tonight when the classroom door creaked open. Chase glanced over him as the people who had entered started whispering urgently behind him to Madame Bellefort.

"Mark?"

Confused by Mr. Angelo's voice being in his French classroom, he spun around lightly in his chair, still smirking at how clueless Chase was to his insults.

"Can you come outside with us?"

Ms. Pillsbury was with him. His face fell at the looks on their faces and his heart sped up. Whatever they were about to tell him wasn't anything he wanted to hear.

The next three hours were a muddled blur. He'd been ushered out into the hall only to be told his father had just been rushed to the hospital. Mr. Angelo drove the three of them over, explaining what little he knew from the brief phone call the hospital had made to the front office. He barely heard any of it over his father's voice from that morning.

_I'm disappointed in you, Mark._

_Breakfast of champions..._

God, he just wanted to curl up in the backseat and sob until someone woke him up and told him he was dreaming. But he knew he didn't have that option as Ms. Pillsbury opened his door and helped him out the car. He paced the waiting room for nearly an hour before the doctors came to speak with him and even then they didn't give him anything to go on.

His father had had a heart attack and was in a coma. They didn't know when or even _if_ he was going to wake up. After nearly an hour of sitting beside his bed, holding his limp hand just like he'd held Mark's so many times before, Mr. Angelo persisted that they head back to Sanibel. He almost refused, but another glance at his father, who was usually full of life and smiles and jokes and laughter, lying there more lifeless than a sack of potatoes changed his mind.

He had to get away, to forget. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

He made it back to school just in time for the last hour of his final class. He was even almost glad to see Nick just for the distraction, even if the boy seemed to want nothing to do with him anymore. Everyone was already settled into their lab stations; Nick was flicking his fingers in and out of the little fire of the Bunsen burner which the group next to him tried to get as part away as possible.

Mrs. Mentore looked surprised to see him wandering into her classroom. She jumped and ushered him over to his seat.

"Mark, I wasn't expecting you after your father's–"

"I can't miss classes. They'll be too much to make up." Mark said quickly, flinching slightly at the mere mention of his father. He didn't want to think about it now or ever.

"Okay. You can skip today's lab if you want to, Mark."

"No, no. I'll do it. It's fine." His mouth was moving of its own accord, trying to find something, anything to take his mind off of the reality closing in from all sides.

"Well Emily's out sick today so you can work alone–"

"You can always work with me, babe." Nick's voice called from across the room. "We make a pretty hot team."

He was so out of it he barely registered the return of Nick's cockiness, or the fact that he seemed to be talking to him. He barely even thought about what he was doing as he reassured Mrs. Mentore that he was fine working with Nick. Every pair of eyes in the room followed him, a lot of people were whispering, as he dropped down next to Nick, the biggest and most welcome distraction he could have asked for at that moment.

By some miracle Nick hadn't even started their assigned lab yet even though he was usually nearly done at this point.

"You haven't even started?"

Nick shrugged, eyes fixated on his lips as he shuffled closer. "Been distracted by more important things, baby."

Mark stiffened slightly as Nick's warmth pressed into his side, and a booted foot tangled around his ankle. Yes, this was definitely a big distraction.

He glanced down at the assignment sheet to see what they were supposed to be doing: Chemical reaction strip tests. Something easy but that they'd have to wait for. And waiting meant his mind would be free to wander. He ignored the increasingly bold touches as he set about starting up the lab and dipping each test strip into the assigned chemicals. Once everything was set up, he clicked the little stop watch they'd been given and pulled up his stool, sitting in to wait and take notes on whatever they were supposed to be seeing.

He mind instantly circled back around to the hospital until a strong hand clamped around his hip. His stomach clenched up, both at the thrill and the way the touch reminded him of his promise.

"Nick, please stop touching me."

The hand froze but didn't move. "Why, baby? I know you like it. Besides, you could use a good distraction."

So Nick knew then. Perfect. Now he was back to thinking about his father again. The moisture behind his eyes started building up again at the thought of his father, usually strong and brave, looking like a tiny premature infant wrapped up in a jungle of wires and tubes.

Nick's hip bumped his as he sniffled and the hand on his hip tightened again. He didn't offer anything more, though Mark didn't really expect him to. Nick didn't care, and he was terrible at being nice or saying anything that wasn't offensive. He was probably just hoping that Mark would before his standards and morals in his hysterical state and throw himself at him.

The stopwatch went off and he buried himself into finishing their lab report while everyone else was starting to pack up. Nick just sat there and watched him work, not saying anything but not helping either, as the afternoon announcements started over the sound system. He tossed things back into their places and went to rinse out the cups from the chemical dips as the bell rang.

Much to his surprise Nick didn't leave with the rest of the class. He slid his arm around Mark's waist again and pressed himself close, whispering so that Mrs. Mentore couldn't hear from her desk, "I can help you forget it you want, baby."

His breath caught and his chest gave a funny jolt at his words. But he wasn't doing this again. Even if it would help him forget everything for just a few hours. As much as he wanted to pretend it wasn't happening, that wasn't going to stop it from continuing.

"No, Nick." He said tiredly, drying the cups off and putting them in their cabinet. "If the only help you can offer is an orgasm then I don't want any part of it. Why don't you get that?"

"Oh, come on. Just imagine how much harder you'll come when I'm blowing you, babe."

Not if, when. Mark shuddered at how sure Nick was again. And really he just hated it. Hated how his father was in the hospital, and everything had changed in only a few hours, and how he may very well end up an orphan, and how the only thing Nick got from all of that was a renewed opportunity for _sex._

"God, just _fuck off_, Atkinson." Mark shrieked. He didn't care that Mrs. Mentore was sitting ten feet away or that he'd probably end up in detention again. He just couldn't handle Nick's advances on top of everything that had just been thrown at him. "I don't want to have sex with you. I don't want you near me. My _father_ is–could be d–"

He couldn't say it. Saying it made it real. The tears that had been threatening to fall all afternoon started leaking out of his eyes before he could stop them. And he ran, he didn't even grab his things or look to see either of their reactions to his explosion. He didn't pay attention to where he was going until he found himself inside an empty classroom and even then he could barely see through his tears. He slid down to the ground next to the closed door hugging his knees to his chest.

Now that'd he'd started crying it was hard to stop. But he knew he had to. Carole and Jake were supposed to be meeting him so they could all go over to the hospital together and he didn't want them to worry about him on top of all of this. He wiped furiously at his eyes as he tried to pull it together, and then the door opened and he froze, expecting the room's teacher to have returned for something.

But it wasn't a teacher–it was Nick.

He almost screamed. Why did he have to follow him and just _not give up_?

Nick leaned back against the door, pressing it closed as he folded his arms across his chest. Mark stood quickly and tried to shove him off the door so he could get out and away from him. But Nick barely budged at his half-blind shove–tears were still pooling in his eyes even though he was trying to stop them.

"God, would you just leave me alone!" Mark yelled–or tried to, his throat was too scratchy and hoarse from crying.

"Sheme–Mark–I–_fuck._" Nick ran a hand through his curls, looking more awkward and confused than ever. Mark could tell by the look on his face that even _he_ didn't know why the hell he'd followed Mark when he was so upset. But he just didn't care what the reason was more Nick's presence in the empty classroom. He wanted to be left alone.

Mark charged towards the door again, grabbing Nick's shoulders roughly and trying to push him away from his escape. But Nick shoved back, locking his biceps in a death grip as he pulled Mark off of him.

"Just let me go, damn it." Mark nearly sobbed, fighting against the hold and the scream threatening to climb out of his throat.

"_No._" Nick said firmly, backing them away from the door.

He couldn't see anymore, the tears were completely glossing over his eyes and dripping down his cheeks as he slammed his fists against Nick's muscled chest, yelling, "God, why? Why do you even _care?_"

He pounded his fists against Nick repeatedly twisting and pulling with all of his might to get loose. He was half-yelling, half-crying as Nick tightened his hold even more.

"Because I know how this feels!"

It was the first time Nick had ever shouted in his presence, the most emotional Mark had ever heard his voice. He froze at the admission that had just echoed off the walls of the empty classroom, staring at Nick. Nick's hands fell away and clenched into his fists that he pressed against his eyes as though he was furious with himself for what he'd just said.

But Mark was to upset, to furious and blinded by his own pain to care if Nick was being truthful and open with him.

"Bullshit." Mark snapped, shouldering past Nick towards the door, "You have no idea how this feels." His hand was on the knob when Nick spoke. His was soft and hollow and it made Mark's body freeze up again.

"My father died when I was fourteen. My mother when I was six."

Mark stared at the wooden door, the hand on the doorknob sweaty and cold. For a few seconds the only sound was the clap of Nick's heavy Doc Martens fading away from the door and Mark's shaking, snuffling breaths. He slowly turned back towards Nick, disbelief clawing at his insides. The dark-haired boy wasn't looking at him. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, his eyes focused on his foot toeing at the a scuff on the tiled floor.

"Nick I–I'm–I'm sorry." Mark stuttered.

Nick's head shot up at his words, looking startled, as if nobody had ever felt bad for him before.

"No, don't be. I mean,–I just–I should..."Nick shuffled his feet and dropped down onto the teacher's desk, twisting his forearms around where they crossed over his chest.

Mark took a hesitant step forward as Nick cleared his throat loudly.

"I should be the one who's," Nick cleared his throat again, and mumbled the last word, "sorry."

He'd wanted an apology but he hadn't expected to ever get one. He wiped his cheeks and asked, "Why?"

"Because...god, do I really have to say it? Isn't it enough that I am?" Nick was suddenly angry, taking to pacing in front of him. Mark stopped him with a hand of his arm, turning him until their eyes met.

"Yes, you do because I need to hear it."

Nick stared at him for so long Mark almost thought he'd forgotten they were talking or even why they were standing there. The hazel-green eyes flickered to the closed door, almost hoping someone would come in and rescue him and then they were back on Mark's face. It took a moment for Mark to realize that hadn't glanced at his lips or anywhere else like they always did when Nick looked at him. There was no lust or cockiness either, just a lot of uncertainty and unease.

"For–for last week at–at my place..."

He trailed away but Mark could tell by the look in his eyes that there was so much more he was trying to say only he didn't know _how_ to say it. He bit his lip and shuffled his feet as Mark waited and then–

"I wasn't like–using you–well I was I guess–but just–_shit_–I just..." he stopped again, and sucked in a huge breath of air, "I want to keep you–keep you close...I just like kissing you, okay?"

He tossed his hands in exasperation and turned away and really, Mark thought, it was nowhere near a perfect or amazing apology. But from Nick it was a thousand times more than he'd ever expected. And he knew, even if Nick would never admit it, that he did care. He couldn't bring himself to call him on it though. Just by watching Nick struggle through those honest words he knew anything he said could send Nick right back into hiding.

So he nodded into the silence, even though Nick was turned away and couldn't see it. The clink of metal against teeth started up as Nick turned around, some of his cockiness starting to seep back into his expression. For some reason he didn't quite mind the sound so much anymore. They stared awkwardly at each other as Nick clicked his tongue ring some more.

"So how about that blowjob, babe?"

Mark rolled his eyes and turned towards the door, "No, just _no._"

Nick chuckled behind him, but it didn't have its usually tone of arrogance and superiority. He turned back for a final look–a small glimpse– of the understanding that was still shining there.

"Not even in your dreams, Atkinson." He tossed over his shoulder as he wrenched the door open, wiping his nose and cheeks with his sleeve.

"Actually we do a lot more than that in my dreams, baby. I bet we do a lot more in yours too."

Mark just slammed the door closed and headed back up to grab his bag before meeting Carole and Jake. He didn't understand why his heart felt a little lighter all of a sudden. The daunting visit to the hospital with a father that might never wake up was now looming before him, but Nick... Nick Atkinson might not being as much of a lost cause as he'd originally thought. Mark curled himself into a tight ball in the armchair in the corner. His pre-calculus homework was spread out on the little table set up in front of him but he hadn't even glanced at it in over an hour. Not since Jake had left to go get something to eat in the cafeteria. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only comfort his father had to offer to him now. He'd never hated and treasured a noise quite like he did with that artificial blip.

It was a grimy Sunday afternoon. Through the window next to the mini-cot him and Jake had set up he could see the steely gray sky and the rivers of rain beading down the glass. Carole had been partially absent all morning. As a nurse in the hospital she still managed to sneak down between her patients and rounds and emergency calls, but she was always disappointed to find them barricaded in their makeshift lounge in the corner with Niall still comatose. At least her expectations were reasonable; every time Jake hadn't looked at Niall for five minutes he'd jerk his head around and stare at bed as if he was expecting to see Niall tap-dancing across it. To Mark it was endearing and annoying all at once. He just couldn't keep up that bright optimism and childish hope the same way Jake could.

He was terrified at the lack of change in his father's condition and rightly so. One thing he was certain of was that the longer his father stayed unconscious the more likely it was he would always be that way. He didn't know what to do or how to help or if there even _was_ anything he could do to help. He just wanted to do something that made him useful and helped his father regain consciousness. He didn't want to lose the most important person in his life and become an orphan. The Hudsons were there for him, he knew. And he wouldn't have been surprised if Carole and his father got married at some point. But right now he just really wanted his father there to pull him into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay.

The heavy, white door creaked open and Jake appeared, a white coffee cup in hand. His dark eyes were bright with hope as he looked at the bed, but the sparkle fizzled out at once. He dropped into the seat next to Mark and handed off the hot cup.

Mark stared down into the muddy brown liquid, his stiff fingers tingling at the warmth now spreading through them.

"I know you said you didn't want anything but I know how much you like coffee so..." Jake trailed off with a little shrug.

"Thanks." Mark muttered weakly. And really he meant it even if he hated his coffee black. He took a hesitant sniff. At least it wasn't decaf.

Jake juggled a paperback book between his hands for a few minutes, eyeing the lengthy calculations Mark had spread out across the little table. "I'm glad I'm not in pre-calculus. That looks like a ton of problems for one day."

Mark scowled at the offending papers, "That's only the first problem and I'm pretty sure I'm _still_ wrong."

"Oh...wow." Jake tossed his book aside and picked up one of the pages, twisting it around to view it from different angles. "This just looks like a bunch of purple gibberish."

Mark smiled weakly. He knew Jake was trying in his own way to cheer him up and take his mind off of things. It probably would have worked if they hadn't been in his father's hospital room.

Jake shuffled in his chair awkwardly, glancing around the room and trying to not look obvious that he was staring at Mark.

"_What?_"

His snappy demand came out a lot meaner sounding than he'd meant. The guilty, sad look that twisted across Jake's face made him feel–if possible–worse.

"Sorry." he mumbled quickly, "I'm just...this math is really driving me up the wall."

It was a lame excuse and he knew Jake knew it too. But he didn't call him on it because Jake just got that it wasn't important. That's one of the things Mark liked best about him. He could be unbelievable stupid, but when it counted he just got it.

"Yeah, sorry, man. I, well..." His dark eyes drifted across the room to the bed. Mark followed his gaze, his stomach clenching painfully. He looked away quickly, ripping off his latest failed attempt at problem forty-seven and starting anew. And Jake got that too–even if he wasn't going to shut up.

"So what's up with you and that Nick guy?"

His hand stuttered for a split second as he started the problem over again, but his voice was as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you mean."

"He's kind of been all over you, dude." Jake said, looking uncomfortable as he pressed for answers, "And I hear Anna and Kristina talking about you..." he shot the bed a nervous look as though Niall could hear them, and dropped his voice to a whisper, "having hickeys."

Jake's eyes darted over to the bed again, apparently under the impression that Mark's love life would be the catalyst to his father's awakening. Still, Mark said nothing. He already knew Jake wouldn't believe him if he said they were lying too. Anna and Kristina were two of his closest friends so if they'd said it was true, then Jake could be certain it was.

The dirty sneakers shuffled about on the floor as Jake shifted in his seat. And then he gave Mark the most serious look Mark had ever seen grace his face.

"Look, I know we're not like a–a normal family or whatever. But I think of us all as one. You're kinda like my kid brother–"

"I'm four months _older_ than you, Jake." Mark argued, flicking through his textbook harder than was really necessary.

"Just, like...be careful, man. Cause if he gets you pregnant–"

The pencil in his hand clattered to the sterile, white floor.

"_Oh my god_. Are you _seriously _that stupid?" Mark cut him off loudly, the disbelief clear in his tone.

"What? Or–" Jake looked completely freaked out at whatever he was thinking, "–or would you be the one doing the–cause I just thought–"

"Stop. _Now._" It was Mark's turn to glance over at the bed. Unconscious or not, he really did not like having this conversation with his father in the room. "Guys can't get pregnant, Jake. Didn't you research anything after what happened last year?"

"Yes!" Jake said indignantly, "Just not the–the gay se–stuff."

"Just..._god._" Mark buried his face in his hands, "Me and Nick aren't–"

He couldn't even say it. That may have just been because he was now thinking about it.

"Why are we even talking about this?" he demanded sharply, glaring at Jake. At least he was good and distracted now. He had to give Jake credit for that.

Jake shrugged, still looking horrified at his own daring for entering into this conversation. "I dunno. I guess you just look..." he paused, searching for the right word, "like happier when he's around you. Even if you're super annoyed too."

Mark stared at him for a long moment, trying to judge how sincere the other boy was being. He kind of hated that Jake was right. Because since Friday afternoon he'd started to realize just how much of his life Nick was a part of. And the fact that Nick actually _cared_ about him was finally sinking in deep. It made everything that had happened between them seem more real somehow, more solid. It had given him hope of something more than just meaningless make outs against chalkboards and bathroom sinks. That moment in the classroom had finally convinced him of one thing: he liked Nick. Even if he hated him half of the time. He wanted to be around him and to touch him and kiss him and have his arms wrapped around his chest again.

"I–" he hesitated to tell Jake any of these things. He was just coming to terms with it all himself. And even then, he still barely knew anything about Nick or what kind of trouble he could really be. "I don't know, Jake." he sighed tiredly and retrieved his pencil from the floor, "He's an a–" he paused. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to call Nick that anymore because he knew now that it wasn't completely true.

"We'd all be really happy for you, y'know." Jake said quietly, staring down at his hands twisted together on his lap. "Even–even Niall will be once he–"

Jake stopped again and they both looked over at the jungle of wires around his father's form.

A sudden inspiration seemed to take over Jake and he gave Mark this ridiculous little half-smile.

"I think I know how to get him to wake up."

Mark raised an elegant eyebrow, not quite believing Jake of all people would have an answer even a doctor wouldn't.

"I'll pray to Grilled Cheesus for him–"

He must of heard that wrong. "You'll pray to _what?_"

Jake looked sheepish. "Well, I made a grilled cheese and it had Jesus on it–"

Mark snorted and actually laughed–a real, loud laugh. "Just...Jake."

"It got me to second base with Sarah!"

He only laughed louder at that, forgetting for just a moment where they were and why.

"Oh my god, Jake. Just." he shook his head, wiping a small tear from the corner of his eye, "You–a _sandwich_–"

Jake looked terribly affronted, "I just thought it might help!"

"No. Thanks for the um...offer, but I'll stick to the acupuncture." He patted Jake on the shoulder gently as the larger boy pouted.

Once he returned to school on Monday he'd almost felt like he hadn't left. Things pick right back up where they'd left off and he wasn't nearly as prepared as he normally was. First thing after the morning announcements, Mr. Base gave out a pop quiz on their reading for the weekend. Mark had barely even started it. He had a bit of a break in French even though had a dialogue to present to the class. It was easily his best subject so he knew without a doubt he'd aced that. In Home Economics they were supposed to be baking a cake. By the time he left the room for lunch he was covered in flour and sugar and was pointedly ignoring Anna would had cause the mini-food fight with Kristina from across the room.

When he finally strolled into the chemistry lab he noticed one the immediately: Nick wasn't there. The delinquent was _always_ there before him without fail. He'd even seen Nick just this morning in English. He took his usual seat and waited for him to make an appearance as the other kids wandered inside in pairs and trios. As the bell rang, he felt his heart sink slightly. After their encounter on Friday he really wanted to see Nick though he had no idea what he would do once he did.

After another miserable afternoon at the hospital and then a sleepless night at the Hudson's house, Mark greeted his classes of Tuesday with a dazed expression and a ton of inattention. Nick was present but silent until they settled down at their usual table together for lunch. His food cluttered tray clattered down onto the table top next to Mark's and he slid onto the bench and pressed their sides together, his hand neatly tucking around Mark's waist to stroke his side.

Mark really wasn't in the mood to get touchy-feely right now. He was still trying to figure out how to do those damn calculus problems without an ounce of success. A leg tangled around his calf as Nick's hand slid down to his thigh his fingers brushing over the soft material of his dark pants.

"Nick, _stop._"

The order was ignored and he wasn't the least bit surprised. Mountain of food forgotten, Nick pressed his lips to the soft skin behind Mark's earlobe. Mark shuddered against his own will, trying vainly to focus on what the derivative of cosine was.

Nick hummed against his skin, breathing on the wet spot where his lips had just been.

"I'll stop if you let me blow you right now."

"Which means you wouldn't be stopping at all–"

"Sure it does, Mark. It means this–" he sucked hard on the same spot again and Mark felt his chest tighten, "–won't be happening because my mouth will be much too busy with _this_." A firm hand pressed against his zipper.

"Excuse me, boys. Hands to yourselves."

Mr. Base stopped long enough to make sure Nick pulled himself away from Mark. The moment he was gone Nick was right back where he'd been, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Cockblock." under his breath as he dropped his chin onto Mark's shoulder and lazily darted his tongue out against his pulse point.

Mark re-focused on his homework that was due in fifteen minutes. He was completely doomed. There was no way he was ever going to get this done right–

"Arc tangent x plus the square root of x over the inverse of cosine."

He froze turning his amazed gaze onto Nick. The only thing he really succeeded in was pressing their cheeks together and having Nick's eyes–today a beautiful, bright green–fill his line of sight.

"You're just guessing." Mark decided instantly, shrugging out of Nick's hold and flipping back a few pages to look up something.

Nick looked slightly annoyed. "You don't believe me then look it up in the back. All the odd answers are in the back of those stupid books."

Mark shot him a withering look and paused in his flipping. His curiosity got the better of him though. Nick was probably the only junior in Calculus BC; not even a fourth of the seniors made it up to Calculus AB. So he grabbed a wad of the pages and flipped to the answers until he found the right section and number. A planet could have fit inside his mouth in that moment as his jaw sagged to the floor.

The same answer Nick had just rattled off was staring up at him from the stained page. He turned his gaze to Nick, still utterly speechless.

A cocky smirk pulled at Nick's lips as he swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti. "Told you, Sheme."

"How– did you do that in your head?"

Nick shrugged and shoveled more food into his mouth, eerily reminding Mark of how Jake ate. Teenage boys were such pigs.

But he still couldn't believe it. So he took a glance at another answer in a different section and flipped to that page and pointed it out.

"Answer that one then."

Nick glanced over, his eyes rolled up a bit as he thought and not even twenty seconds later–

"X sin x cubed in parentheses times x minus a eighth in parentheses."

He was right again. Mark just gaped at him at least until Nick took advantage of his open mouth. Quick as lightning his lips sealed themselves over Mark's and his tongue darted in for a quick taste–

Mark shoved him off. He might have admitted he liked Nick and he might even understand the boy a little better now but he was still not okay with that. Especially in the Sanibel High lunch room.

"Teach me how to do these problems right." Mark demanded, pointing at his book, "We've got fifteen minutes."

"Mmm I can think of much better things to teach you in fifteen–"

Mark slammed the heel of his boot into Nick's toes. He jerked his foot back with a hiss of pain, glaring at Mark.

"First thing, you've got remember to separate these before you start on the derivatives..."

He was amazed at how much he learned by the time the bell rang. He'd managed to get eighty percent of the assigned problems correct with a few quick guidelines from Nick on how to work them out. As usual Nick stuffed his apple into the pocket of his jacket, but today he followed Mark down the hall instead of turning off towards to gym. Nick's arm tangled around his waist possessively making it awkward to walk as their hips kept bumping against each others.

"What do you say to having some more fun at my place after school? Work on that...project and what not?" Nick's voice was smoother than glass. They stopped outside of Mark's classroom.

"Not if its anything like our last project." Mark replied darkly, very aware of the curious students eyeing them as they passed, "I have Perfroming Arts and my father..."

He trailed away. As much as he loved his father he really didn't want to spend all night sitting in a lonely hospital room trying to do his homework and glancing up hopefully every so often to see if his father had moved at all.

Some of Nick's cockiness seemed to melt away as he pulled his arm away from Mark.

"I've got detention until half past four. I'll meet you after and help you..." his eyes tracked down Mark's body resting on his crotch for a moment before flickering back up to meet Mark's gaze, "forget for a little while. Ease some of that tension."

Before Mark could formulate an answer Nick had disappeared into the crowd. Once he was in class his mind went straight back to where it always was these days: his father. He suddenly really missed Nick's presence because the other boy somehow managed to distract him from everything without Mark even noticing until he was gone.

His mood only deteriorated further as the class drew to a close. Another lesson he hadn't understood a word of and more homework he was going to struggle through until he got Nick to help him. He sped off to Perfroming Arts Club, silently taking his usual seat and not talking to anyone. Everyone seemed to feel bad for him and they were all trying to cheer him up. But he didn't want to hear about God and religion even if Anna had sung beautifully to try and help him have faith.

If anything it only irritated him and made him feel worse. He didn't want to hear any of it. He was so tired he knew he shouldn't be driving himself anywhere after this. His chest had a constant ache from thinking about his father lying in a hospital bed for the past three hours. So he sang his own song that meant more to him and his father than anything about God ever could. Because there was only one thing Mark had faith in and that was the love he and his father shared.

Nick dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a safety pin, inserting it into the keyhole of his locker. With a few twists it popped open and he stuffed his books inside, grabbed the beaten up skateboard and slammed it shut again. He'd never bothered learning the combination. He didn't really see the point in it since he could just pick the damn thing twice as fast.

He silently congratulated himself on getting out of detention early as he rolled off down the hallway. Even though he kept getting detention on purpose it did get old after a while. Especially without Sheme to help occupy his thoughts–or his hands and lips. God, he wanted to go down at that boy so badly. And then fuck him until they both had bruises. Ever since he'd gotten that taste at his apartment a few weeks ago it was almost all he could think about. It also made him question the whole thing.

If this had been anyone else he'd have already fucked him stupid until he couldn't walk for a week and then moved on. But he hadn't and after six weeks of pursing Sheme he tried not to think about _why._ He knew the guys at Dalton would have taunted him endlessly about it, at least until he beat their asses to shut them up. His stomach twisted at the thought of them. He really missed hanging out with those morons even if they only wanted to bang chicks and drink. With his ankle monitor he had no chance of making it to Westerville and back. Not if he ever wanted to get the fucking thing off. And he couldn't afford a cell phone. They couldn't come visit him either. Dalton had a strict lockdown policy. Or they thought it was strict at least. He'd broken it more times than he'd been expelled from school.

He popped his skateboard up as he approached the Perfroming Arts classroom, ready to fling the door open and do the first impulsive thing that came to mind, but the sound of Mark's voice stopped him outside of the slightly open door.

"–the day of my mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground..."

Something tight tensed in his chest as Mark continued talking. Memories of a bright, sunny morning in May as if the weather, too, had been in denial of what had been happening. How gruff and stoic his father had been as he'd completely ignored his tiny son; had refused to even acknowledge him standing right beside him... He flinched and shook himself as music began playing from inside the little room.

_"Can I tell you something, I think you'll understand..."_

The Beatles. Nick knew this song, though he'd only ever heard it in a romantic context. But he'd never heard it sung by a voice quite as stunning as the one coming from inside the room. He pressed himself against the door a little, wedging it open another inch so he could see.

Mark stood front and center, his bright red jacket impossible to miss as he sung his heart out. And Nick knew that expression had never been truer than it was in that moment. Everything Mark had left was going into his words, hoping that somehow someone or something or anything would hear his pain and bring his father back to him.

"_I wanna hold your hand..."_

The music died. Mark sniffled and wiped a few tears out of his eyes. God, he was terrified of the things this beautiful boy made him feel. He didn't even understand if any of it was real, or how any of this was supposed to work, he just wanted him. He really couldn't explain it any better than that.

Mark was the first one out the door and before Nick could stop himself he'd pulled him off around the corner before the others could see. There was so much he meant to say, but he'd never been good with words or feelings if that's even what these were. He was probably just super horny.

Mark was staring at him curiously, tears still shining in his eyes. Nick had to look away. He just couldn't handle the way that look seemed to sear right into his flesh. God, he didn't know what the hell he was doing. He'd just wanted a good fuck and Mark had shown he was an incredible challenge from day one. And he still wanted that, he told himself, but...

"You have a beautiful voice."

He nearly bit his tongue off after those words fell out of his mouth. Maybe he'd skip on the water bill this month and buy himself filter to go between his brain and his mouth. Because he couldn't say things like that to Mark. He shouldn't want to say things like that.

He crossed his arms over his chest tightly, wishing for the first time in a long time that he could just disappear.

Mark hiccupped a little and gave him a watery smile. "Most people just tell me I sing like a g-girl."

He was way better than any girl Nick could ever dream up. What was his brain thinking? He couldn't afford to think like that. He just wanted to get his cock in Sheme's ass. And then find another ass that wasn't so difficult to claim.

Tears had started to pouring silently down Mark's cheeks and Nick just stood there helplessly. He had no idea what he was supposed to do when someone started crying. Especially when it was someone he had to keep reminding himself that he just hung around so he could get laid.

He racked his brain for some answer outside of his grasp and finally remembered the real reason he'd met Mark after his rehearsal in the first place.

"We're still getting busy at my place, then?"

There. Something a bit more cocky and self-assured would easily get him back on the right brain track and away from whatever the hell happened whenever Mark was around. The tears kept falling as Mark gave a funny nod. Nick took it as a yes, though he really didn't understand the look directed at him as he took Mark's keys and lead the way outside to the parking lot. Somewhere in the back of Mark's mind he knew he shouldn't be letting Nick drive his Navigator. He didn't even know if Nick had a license, but he was–much to Mark's surprise–doing the speed limit and obeying all the traffic laws Mark could think of so he didn't protest. It wasn't a fight he could win when he was this tired and tearful.

Nick pulled into the same visitor's spot and got out, shouldering both of their bags. Mark looked around to see if Belinda was acting as guard dog over her parking space again but the lot was empty. As Nick rounded the front of the car and made to pass by his door he paused. After a moment he pulled Mark's door open, and grunted, "Come on, Sheme."

Mark wiped at his still streaming eyes and slid out, letting Nick close the door behind him. Some part of him was surprised at the gesture, but he was also realizing how vital these little things were to Nick. He'd heard the other boy's intense struggle for words just to say he was sorry and he knew how uncomfortable his crying had made him. The easiest way for Nick to communicate was through physical actions and part of him knew it's why he'd come on so strong when they'd met. He didn't know how to just tell Mark he liked him because when it came to Nick that was the only thing Mark was sure about.

Nick shouldered the door to his room open and waved Mark inside. His stomach gave a funny jerk as he remembered what they'd done the last time they'd been here. Behind him, he heard the heavy trunk dragging across the floor as Nick wedged it between the door and the dresser. His own clean and well cared for bag was dropped onto the bed with Nick's half-shredded one. If it had been anyone else he would have felt awkward just standing there with tears still pooling in his eyes. But for some reason he didn't quite understand, with Nick of all people, he didn't feel embarrassed or stupid or like he was making things more difficult.

One of the dresser drawers being yanked open drew his attention. The apple from lunch was dropped inside and the leather jacket was peeled off and draped over the little fridge. Nick glanced at him almost nervously and then shuffled backwards towards the opening in the wall where the bathroom was hidden. Nick cleared his throat roughly, and flipped a thumb over his shoulder, "I'm just gonna..."

He trailed off as he slipped behind the wall. A door creaked closed and Mark was alone. Well, as alone as he could get in the tiny apartment with paper-thin walls. Through the far wall he heard the sounds of a television blaring some talk show and the cling of a toilet lid through the back wall were Nick was. His eyes drifted to the bed again. After last time he didn't feel right sitting on it. But he couldn't just stand here and let his mind wander back to–

No. He didn't want to think about it.

The drawer that Nick had opened was still slightly cracked. He hesitated for a moment, knowing Nick could very well get upset at him for going through his stuff, but he needed something to distract him without Nick in the room.

It rattled slightly as he pulled it open. Apples, oranges and a couple of bananas. Nothing particularly exciting. So he opened the one next to it, and then the two on the row below. Every single one was full of some type of food–half a dozen boxes of cereal; bags of cookies and chips; boxes of fruit snacks and granola bars and just anything that didn't have to be cooked or kept cold. It was all tossed inside without a thought to organization which was exactly what he'd expected. After a few minutes of rummaging everything was stacked and ordered neatly. He felt a little more relaxed as he stood back up; organizing things always help him calm down.

Nick was still doing whatever in the bathroom. Part of him thought he knew the answer but really he definitely didn't need to think about Nick getting off ten feet away from where he stood. He looked around for something else to organize, taking in the thick, copper pipes running parallel to the wall on the far side of the dresser and the empty space next to the little counter in the corner beyond.

Something loud banged out in the parking lot and he whipped around. A car engine roared to life and faded away as he stood staring at the door. And then his eyes dropped down to the heavy, well-worn trunk.

He shouldn't–he absolutely should not. But his mind wasn't in the mood to listen to him. He kneeled down in front of it and glanced over towards the bathroom guiltily before lifting the lid. The hinges creaked a little as the lid swung back against the wall.

The trunk was just as messy as the drawers had been. But the contents couldn't have been more different. The top was layered with a tangled heap of clothes. He pulled them out with a frown–he hated seeing people treat their clothes badly. A few hard tugs pulled them apart and he folded them into a little pile in front of the dresser. A handful of mix-matched socks; a few pairs of boxer-briefs and boxers; half a dozen plain v-neck shirts; two pairs of jeans and a well-worn pair of Batman pajama pants. He looked at the sad little pile when he'd finished. It wasn't even a tenth of his own closet.

Scattered around under the clothes were a dozen or so books, both paperback and hardcover, but all well-worn with cracked spines. He pulled them out with interest, wondering just what Nick read. For some reason he'd pegged Nick as the porn magazine type. The books surprised him quite a bit as he sorted through them: _Treasure Island, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Flies, The Picture of Dorian Gray,_ _The Hobbit, _the entire Harry Potter series, several half-torn _Goosebumps_ paperbacks...

And buried under those was a thick stack of comic books in the upper right corner. He thumbed through them briefly. Comic books and superheroes had never really been his style though he had bought into the Power Ranger craze when he was in first grade. The rest of the bottom was littered with a handful of polo shirts and a dozen notebooks.

"If you're looking for lube and condoms they're in the nightstand."

Mark startled and twisted around to find Nick standing next to him. Nick's eyes were focused on the neat stacks surrounding Mark as he continued speaking into the silence.

"I didn't realize you were so eager, Sheme. But really I don't mind prepping you up myself–"

He'd never heard Nick ramble but he was pretty sure that's what was happening. His tone was as cocky as ever but his expression was just slightly flustered. And Mark was certain it had everything to do with him going through Nick's stuff.

"–unless you're into fingering yourself, but still I'd rather get to enjoy the show–"

"Nick..."

He was blushing now. For the first time in weeks Nick was making him blush with the thoughts he was putting into Mark's head.

"–and once you're all stretched and wet and moaning I bet I could just slide right in–"

"_Nick!_"

Nick's mouth snapped shut, but his eyes were a little dazed. He meant to apologize for going through Nick's things or just to say something but he didn't. Nick eyed his belongings all neatly ordered for a moment and then circled around Mark, pressing his back to the wall between the door and window and sliding down onto the floor next to him.

"I suppose for now I could settle for you organizing all this junk." Nick said lightly, waving a hand at the little bit of clutter still left in the trunk. The veins in his arms popped out as he rested his forearms on his propped up knees. Warily, Mark eyed him expecting for him to explode and throw him out in a split second. When Nick lazily raised his eyebrows and shot him a bored expression, Mark reached back into the trunk and pulled out the shirts. One red, another navy blue and a third white. He'd never seen Nick wear any of them in over six weeks of knowing each other.

"Dalton uniform." Nick supplied, reaching forward and twisting the red polo around until Mark could see the white emblem denoting a capital D over the right breast. The navy polo had the same design but it was red; the white one had a navy D. He folded them up and placed them with the other clothes.

"Why do you still have them?" Mark couldn't help but ask. He didn't know anything about Nick's time at Dalton, or really anything about him beyond the here and now.

Nick shrugged and said roughly, "They're good to sleep in once it gets colder and they still fit."

Mark's eyes shifted to the tiny pile of clothes again. It made sense when he had so little to wear. His hand started digging back through the trunk again, but he couldn't help but watch Nick out of the corner of his eye. There were so many questions he had. He didn't know where to begin or if he even should.

"Why did you leave Dalton?" He'd said it before he'd realized it. He almost expected the same reaction he'd gotten when he'd asked about Nick's parents but he was surprised. An equally curious expression was directed at him, as if Nick found his interest in him just as much of a mystery as Mark found his past.

"I got kicked out...or expelled I guess." Nick amended looking thoughtful, "They didn't call it expulsion since it's a reform school and all that shit but that's basically what it amounted to."

"Oh..."Mark said softly, slowly pulling out a few notebooks and setting them on his lap. He was surprised at how forthright Nick was being with all these answers. Maybe somehow he knew Mark understood the same way he understood with Mark's father. "How...how long were you there?"

But Nick was now busy digging through his pocket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a purple lighter. He shoved the moldy curtains aside and cracked the window, lighting up as Mark watched in disdain. The slightly smoky smell on his clothes and breath had given him away but somehow Mark had hoped it wasn't true.

"About a year or so."

Mark had completely forgotten his question at the sight of Nick smoking and the courtesy he was doing by blowing the smoke out of the window and hanging the cigarette out of it.

"Sorry?"

Nick raised an eyebrow and took another drag, turning back to the cracked window and exhaling the smoke slowly, eyes drifting shut. He' never seen Nick more at ease and calm than he was right now.

"I was at Dalton for a little over a year. I went there after juvie."

Mark's stomach jolted at that word. A juvenile detention center. Even Samerman hadn't managed to get sent to one of those. Not yet at least. A place like that was either a last resort for kids who were extremely troublesome or a home to law breakers. The thought had never even crossed his mind that Nick would have been in juvie. He twisted nervously now. Nick was much more dangerous than he'd realized, wasn't he?

"I didn't kill or rape anyone if that's what you're thinking."

Nick was scowling darkly at him.

"What? No–I didn't think–"

"You did." Nick said tonelessly, "Everybody does when they find out."

The fact that Nick expected that type of reaction was a painful pill to swallow. It reminded him of when everyone had shied away in fear during their first chemistry lesson. Did everyone really treat him like that where ever he went? Or when they saw the ankle monitor? How could he just accept that type of isolation and rejection? He wasn't sure if Nick was mad at him or not, and he knew he shouldn't push his luck, but...

"Then why were you...there?"

His lips didn't want to form the word. Nick in juvie. He'd barely wrapped his mind around it. Nick looked surprised and Mark knew nobody had ever probably bothered to ask for the truth. They'd just made assumptions and ignored him.

"Bunch of reasons."

The vague reply was followed by a long drag on the cigarette.

"_Like_?" Mark persisted. There was no way he was stopping until Nick kicked him out or told him. With everything that might be happening between them he had to know this before he did anything else. He had to know just what exactly his heart was getting itself into.

"Theft, vandalism, assault and battery..."

Mark's spine went rigid. The hand pulling out the last few notebooks lost all feeling and the notebooks flapped back down uselessly.

"You-you–" He was stuttering terribly. Judging by the look on Nick's face his eyes were the size of a stop sign.

"They knocked the shit out of me," Nick snarled darkly, "So I just returned the favor. Unlike them I didn't have a fancy lawyer for a father to get me off the hook."

There was so much anger and bitterness in those words. Mark could only stare at him, suddenly realizing how Nick must have felt when he was crying earlier. He didn't know how to respond to something like that; had never encountered anything quite as gut-wrenching and terrifying.

He watched Nick take another drag on his cigarette.

"Those things are so bad for you, Nick." His voice wasn't as steady and exasperated as he would have liked, but it was good enough.

A humorless chuckled echoed around him as Nick mumbled, "I'm a hazard to myself regardless."

It was the most self-deprecating thing he'd ever heard Nick say. A dull ache throbbed in his chest as he watched Nick stub out the cigarette on the window sill and then flick it out the window. He couldn't believe the pieces of Nick's life that were slowly forming together in front of him. He dug the dropped notebooks back out of the trunk and something fluttered out of one of them.

Curious, he moved the notebooks to the pile he'd created for them and looked back inside. It was a photograph. An old Polaroid but compared to the rest of the things Nick owned it was meticulously cared for. He glanced over at Nick before he reached for it. The other boy was busy flicking his lighter and clicking his tongue ring. He snatched the photograph up to take a better look.

A cheerful looking woman was seated at a piano facing away from it and towards the camera. Her hair was dark and probably would have been wildly curly had it not been styled and pulled back. She reminded him of someone though he couldn't place who it was until his eyes drifted to the little boy, no older than four or five, sitting in her lap.

It was Nick.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Nick.

He was practically a clone of the woman, who Mark realized had to be his mother. He ran a finger over their faces slowly, taking in the untamable curls that framed his face, the less defined but no less pointy eyebrows. The only difference between them was the eyes; the woman's were a deep blue while his were a warm hazel-green. Warm and not lustful or angry or cocky. And his smile...god, his smile could have put the sun and the stars and the moon to shame. It looked so strange to him and it also made him realize something that made his heart stop.

He'd never seen Nick smile like that. Or even seen him happy. Not like he was in his mother's arms, his face bright with laughter and his smile wide and open and so carefree...

"What's that?"

Nick was watching him, eyeing the picture in his hand. Heart hammering against his ribs, Mark showed him the picture. He had no idea how Nick would react to him seeing something like this or even seeing the picture himself. The picture was tugged gently out of his grasp and Mark sat back on his heels, watching Nick's eyes roam over the image.

Sadness flickered in his eyes as he stared at his younger self. A sad yet fond smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he passed the photograph back to Mark, "Just junk. Toss it back into one of those notebooks or something. I don't care, Sheme."

He busied himself with stuffing his cigarettes and lighter back into his pocket. But Mark couldn't take his eyes off of him.

"Nick," he began without any real idea of what he wanted to say. What could he say? Nick was more than ready to just brush this picture off like it was nothing...but Mark couldn't just let this go.

Nick glanced up from shifting the lighter in his pocket for the third time and met his eyes. His stomach knotted up as he met that gaze but he needed to know. He _wanted_ to know Nick. He wanted Nick to know _him_.

"Is this your mother?" he asked softly, tracing a finger over the beautiful woman's frozen, smiling face.

"It was." Nick said gruffly.

Mark's finger paused at the tense change. _Was_. Was because she was dead now–had been dead for ten years. Ten years he'd grown and changed and learned without her. Changed into someone completely unrecognizable as the little boy in the photograph he held.

"She–"

Mark startled at the hoarse sound of Nick's voice interrupting his thoughts. He hadn't expected any more information without questioning the other boy. But maybe, just maybe Nick wanted to let him in and help him understand his life. Or maybe he wanted to relate to him with their mothers. He didn't know, but he hoped it was something good.

Nick's eyes were unfocused as they stared at the photograph still in Mark's hands. His arms had looped around his knees, drawing them closer to his chest. If he'd thought Nick had looked vulnerable in that empty classroom it was nothing compared to this. It was almost like a shadow of the little boy in the photo had draped himself over Nick. Nick cleared his throat a little, and spoke softly, almost wistfully, "She was a concert pianist. That's one of the only memories I have of her."

When Mark looked confused at his vagueness, Nick elaborated, "She started teaching me how to play when I was about four I guess. I think I was five in that picture." he shrugged, looking horribly uncomfortable with everything that had come spilling out of his mouth in the last few minutes.

"Her name was Lyra." he added lamely, running his hands through his curls and looking at anything but Mark's face.

That last statement would have been enough for Mark to know the truth–his mother had been his entire world. Between the photograph and the most personal information Nick had ever given him being about her he knew it was true.

And he understood it more than he wanted to. Even though his father had and always would play a huge role in his life, his mother had understood him in ways that Niall couldn't. She'd helped him with fashion and let him play with her makeup and shoes. She'd shown him how to bake his first cake and braid her hair. Niall had tried to fill the gaping hole by playing tea party and buying him the clothes and toys he wanted and not what he'd thought his son should have, but the ache was still there.

It was just the same with Nick he knew. The wound had scabbed over but every now and again something would pick that scab off and open it all up again.

Now Nick had nobody. At sixteen he lived alone, with some help from his grandfather from what Mark had deduced. He was an orphan and already in all kinds of trouble. The eyebrow ring glinted in the dull light from the single lamp in the room. Mark took it all in. The ear piercings, the eyebrow piercing, the slightly scruffy jaw and upper lip, the rebellious, dead, I-don't-give-a-fuck glow lingering in his eyes.

Was this a glimpse into his own future?

At six Nick had lost his mother. Mark had lost his own at eight.

Nick's father had died when he was fourteen. Mark was probably going to lose his at sixteen.

His life was spiraling into a sad imitation of Nick's. Everything he was feeling now, Nick had already felt–had already dealt with. He understood the fear crawling at Mark's insides in a way that Jake, Carole, and Anna never could.

A hand caught his wrist. He'd started trembling without even realizing it.

"Hey..." Nick's smooth, soft voice felt like it was light years away and right in his ear at the same time.

His vision was blurring as a hesitant arm circled his waist.

The touch was the last chip in his resolve.

He buried his face into the crook of Nick's neck as the tears fell fast, clutching desperately at the other boy. He felt Nick stiffen in alarm as he wrapped himself around him but he didn't care. He knew Nick understood even if he didn't know how to show it. The fact that he hadn't pushed him away was enough for him right now.

He didn't expect anything else from him–until he felt the uncertain hand still pressed against his side tighten its hold.

Before he'd realized what was happening, Nick had pulled him into his lap, back resting against the wall, and stiffly wrapped his arms around him in an attempt to comfort.

The movement only made the tears fall faster because it said so much. Nick was trying to make the effort even if he didn't know how. And for the first time he wasn't doing it for his own pleasure or gain–he was doing it for Mark.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. Hiccups racked his body as the tears finally stopped. A car door slammed outside of the room followed by the creek of the end apartment's front door. It slammed shut a moment later. Mark could hear the occupant shuffling around inside as Nick's shoulder shifted against his cheek.

After Nick started shifting beneath him more restlessly, he pulled back and dabbed at his eyes and cheeks with his sleeve. The warm hand still tangled around his waist moved to the top of his thigh, rubbing gently.

"You know that blowjob offer still stands, babe."

Mark hiccupped out a little laugh even though he knew Nick was probably serious about the offer. The familiarity of the comment eased the ache in his chest just a bit.

He twisted out of Nick's lap, and crawled over to where he'd dropped his bag earlier.

"Are we still working on that analysis?" Mark asked, ignoring the offer. He pulled out his pre-calculus textbook and his chemistry notebook, searching for the little paperback novel.

A hand pulled the math book out of the pile.

"I'd rather help you with this, Sheme. It's much easier." Nick said, shaking the book in his face, "If you get this done now then we'll have all weekend for some_ fun_."

Mark froze at the emphasis Nick had placed on the last word. He knew Nick cared about him in some way now. And he wanted to be close with him and _do things._ But not more than they'd already done. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that–or if Nick would drop him once he got laid.

"I hardly think doing schoolwork all weekend is going to be fun." Mark replied calmly, letting Nick take his book and notebook and settle on the bed. Suddenly nervous, Mark turned back to the piles he'd created and placed them inside of the trunk wedged between the door and dresser.

"What section did you do today?"

Mark paused at the question. He honestly had no idea. The last thing he'd been was focused during his math111 class earlier.

"I–I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention..."

"No wonder you don't understand this shit." Nick said dryly, rolling his eyes and flipping to the front of Mark's notebook for the syllabus. "Did you get a homework schedule or anything?"

Mark sunk onto the bed next to him, no answering as Nick flipped through the pages next to him. The curtains were drawn shut like last time but he could already tell it was dark. He fought down a yawn as Nick's voice rattled off the assignment behind him, his eyes fluttering shut at the soothing voice.

"Problems thirty-five through fifty-one, odd only...Sheme? _Mark!_"

His shoulder was shaken roughly and he shook himself.

Nick was giving him a funny look when he stood up.

"I should go. It's g-g-getting late," Mark yawned, putting his things back in his bag as Nick circled around to the door.

He'd expected Nick to be moving the trunk when he spun around to leave, not physically blocking him from the door. A moment later he thought he understood the reason, but how Nick had known didn't make any sense to him.

Something glass had shattered against the pavement outside. Loud, drunken laughter echoed through the thin wall. The sound of another bottle shattering closer to the room made Nick glance over at the window, his eyes narrowed shrewdly.

Mark stifled a third yawn as Nick looked back at him.

"No. You're–" he looked agitated as another bottle shattered, followed by catcalls and rowdy shouts of laughter. "You shouldn't be driving. It's late...you're tired."

Mark was still staring transfixed at the door when a fourth bottle slammed into it, popping the door up just a crack and shattering as another chorus of laughter surrounded them. He jumped back towards the bed as Nick toed the door shut again and took his bag from him.

"Just..._fuck_...you can stay here tonight, okay babe?"

He wasn't sure he liked that idea at all. Alone in the same room with Nick for a whole night. He didn't trust either of them to not touch each other. But the drunken laughter was still loud outside of the door and he really didn't want to see what that was all about. Especially not when it seemed to make Nick nervous.

"I don't have my facial creams or–or pajamas or a toothbrush or–" he protested pointlessly as several vulgar swears ruptured the silence inside the room.

Without a word, Nick pushed his trunk open and tossed him the Batman pajama pants.

"There. Go change or whatever in the bathroom. I'll change here."

"But my teeth and face–"

"I've got a new toothbrush on the sink I haven't used yet. And I'm sure your face will survive one night."

Nick hadn't met his eyes the entire time he'd been talking, almost as if he was ashamed of the disturbance still taking place outside of his apartment. He kicked his boots off and into the corner, completely relaxed as he stripped his shirt off with Mark still standing there staring at him.

"Staying for the show, baby?"

Blushing, Mark hurried back to the little bathroom. It took him a good minute to figure out how to flip the light bulb on where it was sticking perpendicularly out of the wall above the medicine cabinet. Another five minutes were wasted on convincing himself to actually put on _Nick's pajama pants._

He stared at himself in the little, cracked mirror as he brushed his teeth. God, he looked like a train wreck. His eyes were still puffy from crying. The end of his nose was slightly red. His lips were dry and chapped.

He rinsed his mouth out and left the toothbrush on the sink next to Nick's, feeling incredibly weird as he looked at the pair. He pulled his jacket and tie off but hesitated when it came to his shirt. A dress shirt was really not an ideal shirt to sleep in, but he felt too embarrassed to take it off–even if Nick had seen him shirtless. He was too shy and modest about his appearance, and he didn't think he could trust Nick to keep his hands to himself if he walked out there half naked.

Feeling slightly foolish as he went back into the main room, he tugged at the bottom of his shirt, staring hard at the floor as he put his folded up clothes next to the mini-fridge.

"Sheme, I've seen your dick. There's really no reason for the shirt to stay on unless you want it ruined."

He hated that Nick knew him well enough now to call him on that. He was just formulating a snappy comeback as he spun around but it died in his mouth. Nick was standing on the far side of the bed, arms folded across his bare, toned chest, smirking broadly at him, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs.

Mark gulped instead and looked away as Nick laughed at him. He heard the bed creak as Nick hopped under the blankets.

"Well come on. Strip for me and get over here."

His neck and face were burning as he unbuttoned the shirt and folded it up, placing it on the pile. He really didn't want to ruin it and it wasn't like he had anything to hide. His hands still twisted nervously as he turned around, eyes still downcast. The blush was spreading to his clavicles as he dropped on to the edge of the bed.

This was such a bad idea. He should just wait until whatever was going on in the parking lot stopped and then leave. Another yawn expanded like a bubble inside of his chest as a hand pressed him into a laying position. Still, he made sure he was facing away from Nick in the hopes that things wouldn't get carried away.

Nick's chest brushed the back of his shoulder as he reached over Mark to turn off the light. He shivered slightly at the warm skin, curling the blankets up around his chest, and trying to act like it hadn't happened. There was no way he was ready for what Nick was probably hoping for right now.

Part of him wanted the arm to retreat back to Nick's side of the bed. Another part wanted it wrapped around him as he fell asleep. He knew he liked Nick and wanted to get to know him but god, he was still so unsure when it came to all of this physical intimacy. A second later, Nick didn't give him much of a choice.

He meshed his chest into the curve of Mark's back, sliding an arm around his waist, fingers rubbing into his hipbone. For once he didn't even startle at the touch or Nick's eager lips pressing against his neck. A dreamy sigh slipped past his lips. He'd missed this; had missed Nick touching him and just being close.

"Nick..." he said resignedly, as the other boy ground his half-hard cock against his ass. "We've got school in the morning. We should sleep..."

But Nick just hummed against his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the back of his neck and down his back. He felt his skin contract at the new sensation, his breathes shortening. His stomach fluttered as Nick's lips moved lower and then up towards his ribs, ghosting over the soft skin as he pushed Mark's arm out of his way.

"Nick." he said more firmly as his lips moved down his side, slowly edging towards the elastic of his pajama pants. He got no response except a palm rubbing over his cock. A sharp gasp was torn from his throat as Nick sucked the skin over his hipbone between his teeth and cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his hand.

Nick was completely hard against his ass now and it was taking every ounce of his considerable willpower to not grind back against him.

"Nick," he said again, his voice cracking and breathless as he rolled over to try and convince Nick to stop, "We can't do this–"

Immediately he knew this was a mistake.

The hand on his hip pulled them together, bare chest to bare chest making Mark's breath stutter. Nick's other hand grabbed the cheek resting on the pillow and smashed their lips together.

And then Nick was kissing him senseless and in a way he'd never kissed him before. It was still heavy and fast, but there wasn't the usual underlying sense of urgency and hormone driven need. There was a passion to it that literally stole the air from Mark's lungs. He was dizzy as he pulled away from Nick's lips, allowing himself to be rolled onto his back. Nick's warm weight settled between his thighs, his lips nipping down his chin to his throat.

"You taste so good." Nick whispered against his Adam's apple. Mark moaned softly as he licked at the exposed flesh, pressing his head back into the pillow farther to give Nick more access. Slowly, Nick's tongue dragged down his neck to where his clavicles met. On instinct, Mark dug his fingers into Nick's curls, trying to press his mouth closer to his skin, to have more of the contrast between the hard bead of his tongue ring and his soft wet tongue.

"You're so hot for this, aren't you?" Nick said softly, grabbing his hips and thrusting slowly against him.

A flash of pleasure shot down his spine as his hips snapped up to meet Nick's. The hands fisted in Nick's curls yanked his face back up to his swollen lips, clinking their teeth together loudly as he pulled Nick down for a fierce kiss.

Nick's groan rumbled against his chest as he thrust down against Mark again. Fuck, it felt incredible. Through the thin fabrics he could actually feel Nick's cock pressed against his own. Why had they done this with jeans before? This was a million times better than just a vaguely hard bulge sliding roughly against him through a thick pair of jeans. And–a shot of scalding hot arousal pulsed through him–it would probably feel indescribable once they were skin to skin.

Suddenly he needed more; needed Nick pressed so tightly to him that the heat from their bodies would melt them together until they were one. He wrapped his ankles over the back of Nick's thigh, the coarse hairs rubbing against the heel of his feet, as he pulled him closer.

"_Fuck_, Mark." Nick whispered against his lips, rolling his hips down harder. And then his lips left Mark's again. With a growl of frustration Mark made a move to yank him back up. He never wanted Nick to stop kissing him. The things that boy did with his tongue should be something he never had to stop enjoying.

He propped himself up on his elbows when Nick resisted his yank, wondering just what the hell Nick had in mind that could possibly be better than kissing each other breathless, when a jolt shot through his left nipple.

"Oh, fucking hell." he breathed out as Nick's lips sucked roughly at his nipple. His elbows gave out under him as he fell back into the mattress with a loud, throaty moan. Scratchy stubble was tickling against his ribs as hot air ghosted across his flesh from where Nick's nose was pressed against his chest.

With a faint pop Nick gave his now taut nipple a last lingering suck. Above him Mark whimpered, hands gripping hard into the sheets, his toes curling as his raised his hips seeking some sort of friction for his aching cock.

Soft kisses trailed across his sternum and he knew what was coming next–or he'd thought he had. He cried out a string of incoherence as Nick pressed him down harder into the mattress. This time teeth had latched onto his right nipple, biting gently and sucking hard as Nick pushed his hips down, pinning his own to the bed. He was breathing hard when Nick finally released his nipple, his lips tracking back up his chest to his ear lobe, which he flicked his tongue against.

Mark whined loudly, not caring if Nick's neighbors or all of Lima heard him at this point. Every touch of Nick's fingers against his hips, every swipe of his tongue against his skin was making him throb painfully. His balls were tingling, and the head of his cock was begging for some sort of friction to appease the ripples of pleasure prickling through it.

"Still against that blowjob?"

Nick's hot breath tickled his ear as he spoke. Mark froze at the suggestion, panting as Nick nuzzled his nose against the curve of his jaw. God, this boy...

"Please..." he begged, his voice faint as he sucked in another huge breath. He was ready. "Please, Nick."

Nick hummed against his cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth, "Please, what, baby?"

He knew what Nick wanted him to say. And he also knew Nick didn't actually expect him to say it because he was so shy about this type of thing.

"I want my cock in your throat, damnit."

Nick's lips froze against his cheek. He could feel Nick's stomach moving against his own as he breathed heavily; could feel his heart pounding against his own.

"God, finally." Nick moaned, swiftly pushing himself down Mark's body.

A few sloppy kisses across his stomach were all Mark was aware of before Nick was pulling his pants and boxer-briefs down his legs until they were a puddle somewhere under the blanket. He barely had any time to prepare himself before Nick's tongue was pressed against the underside of his cock and his hands was kneading his balls. His hips jolted up at the touch until a firm hand held them down. Whimpering he shifted around, trying to seek out the warm breath he could feel expelling from Nick's mouth.

And then Nick's tongue was licking up the pre-cum leaking down his head, before he parted his lips and slide through hard him, sinking down onto Mark's cock. The only thing that prevented him from slamming his himself down Nick's throat was the hand still holding him down by the hip. He thought he was going to explode before Nick had even started. His mouth was so warm and wet and then he hollowed out his lips and pulled back up, sucking hard.

"_Oh my god, Nick._"

He knew he was shouting now. But fuck he didn't care. Nick's perfect mouth was sliding back down his cock until he felt his head hit the back of his throat. The only thing he could do was tangle his hand in Nick's hair again and moan. Nick's head start bobbing up and down under his hand, each suck making it harder for Mark to breathe. His hips were jerking slightly even with Nick's hands holding him down, he could feel the heat building in his lower stomach and knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

The warm, steady pressure was tingling through his balls as Nick twisted his tongue around the head of his cock as he sucked him hard.

"_Fuck._" he whimpered, yanking hard on Nick's curls to try and pull him up, "Nick-I-I'm going to–"

A deep groan quivered around his cock when he yanked on Nick's head again. He didn't back off though, he just moved his mouth faster, sucking more firmly. God, Nick wanted him to–wanted to swallow–

He couldn't even finished the thought as Nick sunk all the way down on his cock, nose pressed into his navel, hand squeezing his balls as the heat curling in his stomach snapped.

"Nick!" he shouted, "Oh god, Nick!"

His cock was twitching in Nick's throat as he came, digging his fingernails into Nick's scalp hard enough to draw blood. He collapsed into the mattress, winded, his body shivering with pleasure. A soft hum around his cock, followed by a faint pop as Nick pulled off, made him wince slightly. He was softening quickly and already getting extremely sensitive.

Nick hovered over him, bowing his head to capture his mouth is a soft kiss. It was salty and warmer than it had been before and Mark would have groaned if he'd had any energy left in him. Nick was letting him taste himself again.

They kissed slowly for a few minutes before Mark became aware that something hard was still jutting against his hip. Slowly, he pressed his thigh against Nick's hardness, eliciting a whimper from the other boy. He could feel Nick's arms shaking where they were supporting him above him. The difference between last time and now was startling. He was holding himself back and not demanding to get off. The realization hit Mark hard as Nick pulled his hips back: he'd done this to make him, Mark, feel good and not himself. Without a thought, he locked his leg around Nick's thigh, looped his arms around his neck and rolled them over. It surprised him slightly when Nick didn't fight him to be on top. Of course it had also surprised him with how gentle their last kiss had been.

Nick's hands traced over his ass and he adjusted until his thigh was rubbing against Nick. Nick sighed softly, letting Mark press a few gentle kisses to his neck, as he thrust back again Mark's thigh.

"Fuck, I'm so close, baby." Nick groaned, pulling Mark down to kiss him hard. Mark let his hands wander across Nick's arms and chest, feeling Nick's stomach contract when he lightly ran his fingers over the sides of his rib cage. A loud gasp echoed into Mark's mouth and his hips jerked hard against Mark's thigh. Mark pressed down harder, dragging himself over Nick faster, knowing he was teetering right on the edge of his orgasm.

"Shit!" 1Nick broke his lips away, turning his head to the side as he frantically thrust up against Mark. Mark watched his eyes slide closed and his lips part as the rush hit him. God, he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

When Nick's hips stopped jerking up he let himself collapse onto Nick's chest. The dampness from Nick's boxer-briefs was pressing against him but he didn't really care. Everything about this had been unbelievable. He placed a soft kiss on Nick's cheek, wrapping himself tightly around the other boy as his eye lids began to droop. Nick's strong arms secured themselves around him as his breathing evened out.

He'd been wrong, he decided as he pulled the blanket up over them and snuggled more into Nick's warmth. Staying the night with Nick was definitely a good idea he should have more often. There was something heavy pressing down on his lungs. Something warm and soft and comforting, but it was also attempting to suffocate him. Nick blinked his eyes open, squinting in the morning sunlight trickling through a part in the curtains, with every intention of shoving whatever was trying to smother him off. There was a load of stringy brown stuff tickling his face as the warm _something_ shifted around on top of him. Odd.

The small part of his brain that was coherent enough to form a logical response to his situation supplied the answer for him: hair. The brown string was hair that smelt vaguely like vanilla and jasmine. The warmth shifted some more, sliding down off his chest and burrowing itself against his side.

Mark.

Soft, even breaths tickled across his chest as Mark nuzzled his cheek into the crook between Nick's neck and shoulder. A pale arm tangled itself around him, fingers grazing over the skin on the side of his ribcage. He shuddered a bit at the touch, Adam's apple bobbing. In the two years since he'd started physically fooling around with other guys he'd never known how sensitive his sides were. It was nice really, he decided as he felt Mark sigh against him, everything about Mark was nice.

And that was what worried him so much. All of this was new, so completely new. It was a wasteland of uncharted territory. The thoughts that ran through his mind, the way his heart raced when he was around Mark–there was no way this was normal. He didn't understand what all of this met, or why he was feeling these things. But he knew he was feeling something and the very thought terrified him. He'd swore off that kind of shit years ago, back when he'd been taunted and had the crap knocked out of him two or three times a week. When he'd come home to find his father passed out drunk on the couch, his step-mother pretending everything was perfectly normal, and his little sister's eyes full of innocence and wonder, completely oblivious to anything out of the ordinary in their house.

Hell, he'd cut himself of from feeling anything after his mother had died and his father couldn't look at him anymore. Because he reminded him of her with his smile and his thick, dark curls, and his love for playing the piano that she'd cherished.

Frowning, he shook himself a bit. God, he hadn't thought about those things in years. He'd been trying to forget it all since he'd been dropped off at this shithole apartment in May. They weren't his family anymore–not even Lily. He'd done his best to forget he had a baby sister he was forbidden from ever seeing again.

Mark shifted against him again, then rolled to face away from him and the window, pulling the pillow lying there into a tight hug. It was Mark that was doing all of this to him. Making him _feel _things and remember things. He was like some sort of weird electrical shockwave coursing across his skin and through his veins. Only he didn't fade away, he pulsed stronger with every second, awakening parts of him that even Nick hadn't known existed.

A shiver ran its way down his spine at the loss of Mark's warm embrace. But he didn't miss it. No, he couldn't afford to miss something as trivial as that. It was a sinful pleasure he enjoyed because it got him off and then he was done until he needed another fix. And it was that simple, he thought himself, it couldn't _be_ anything else. He shook himself again and ignored the urge to curl up behind the other boy. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he grimaced as he caught sight of his now ruined boxer-briefs. He couldn't afford _that_ either.

He stripped them off and cast them into the little waste basket in the corner. It was the newest addition to his room–he gotten bored over the weekend and gone dumpster diving behind the Wal-Mart. He'd found a little phone with an answering machine as well, but he hadn't bothered setting it up yet. A quick glance at the clock told him they still had two hours before school started. He shuffled around the cold room, slammed his heel into the heater unit to get it running again and grabbed some random clothes from his weirdly organized trunk. An almost fond smile tugged at his lips before he stopped himself.

He couldn't get attached. Feeling things for others only got you hurt. But that didn't change one important thing: Mark was his. Nobody else was going to have him if he had anything to say about it. He'd marked that beautiful boy and nobody was going to take him away from him.

The bathroom door thumped closed behind him a few moments later.

Mark woke up with a crick in his neck and a cold draft breezing over his body. It took him a moment to realize he was lying in a bed that wasn't his own and that he was very, unbelievably naked. The sheets were twisted around his shins and he felt embarrassed and shy as he bolted into a sitting position, fumbling for the sheets as a shield from any prying eyes. But the room–Nick's room–was empty. He glanced at the little clock on the nightstand. An hour and a half until they had to be at school. God, his hair was going to be a mess, and his face was going to freckle and break out and get all puffy because he hadn't done anything to it.

Something clattered to the ground on the other side of the wall. It took him a moment to register the sound of rushing water. Nick must be in the shower. The mental image that accompanied that thought really did nothing to stop him from blushing at the empty room.

After a few more moments of sitting there awkwardly he clamped the sheets around his waist and scooped up his clothes, grimacing at the thought of wearing them over. If he hurried he'd still have time for a quick shower at home and a new, fresh outfit. Because there was no way he could show up to school in the same outfit two days in row. His friends would notice, though he could probably get away with it given everything going on in his life.

He dug through the rumpled blanket on the bed, pulling out the Batman pajama pants and his boxer-briefs. Just the thought of his underwear in Nick's pants kept his blush burning. A few fumbling minutes later he'd pulled his clothes on as the shower stopped behind him. He almost caved to the sudden urge to just grab his bag and leave, but he couldn't seem to move his feet. Why was he so embarrassed? God, he'd loved everything about last night. It had still been Nick's fast and slightly rough pace, but the undertones of sweetness were still making his stomach swoop.

Out of sight, the bathroom door creaked open and Nick shuffled around the wall with a toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. His hair was dripping wet, leaving trails of water coasting down his neck and bare chest to the patch of dark hair on his lower stomach. Mark had never really thought he'd have a thing for stomach or chest hair, but he really couldn't stop staring at where the dark trail dipped below the elastic band of Nick's boxers. Briefly he wondered if the trail would continue its trek north over the next couple of years. He certainly hoped it would–and that'd be still have the chance to touch and taste it.

It was an awkward moment when they finally met each other's eyes. Half of him wanted to pull Nick into his arms and kiss him and say good morning and just pretend everything was simple and perfect. But he knew things were far from that between them. They liked each other–did things together that Mark had only thought he'd do in a committed relationship–but neither of them seemed to be able to admit to anything.

"Bathrooms open." Nick grumbled around his toothbrush, dribbling toothpaste down his chin in the process.

Despite himself, Mark smiled a little at the sight. The Nick he was hopelessly falling for was there for only him to see, and opening up like a flower did in the early dawn hours. Because he was falling; tumbling, spiraling, diving head first into the deep end and probably going to crash into a wall and shatter his heart into a million pieces. God, this was all going to hurt so much if everything he thought was real to him wasn't real to Nick–if he was just making everything up in his head.

He reached up and wiped the toothpaste off Nick's scratchy chin, unable to stop the smile from widening across his face. Nick flushed at the gesture, eyes flickering away almost bashfully, and really it was the most adorable thing Mark could have dreamed up. And Mark knew there was more than just steel and ice in Nick's heart as the briefest little glimmer of happiness sparkled in those hazel-green eyes. There was something amazing in there waiting to show itself to him; he would just have to be patient.

"I'm just gonna brush my teeth and then head home and shower and change." he said quietly, walking around Nick towards the bathroom, "Do...do you want to go with me?"

"Depends on how far it is." Nick answered, shaking his leg out like a dog. The ankle monitor clinked gently as Mark's eyes follow Nick's line of sight. He wanted so desperately to ask, but they really didn't have the time. He didn't think Nick would give him a lot of answers right now anyway. There had already been so much he'd learned just from last night.

After a quick brush and a slight hesitation of whether or not he should keep his toothbrush here for the future, he left the bathroom empty handed. Nick was fully dressed now, his bag slung over his shoulder as he tugged his trunk back under the window. They left quickly, hopping into his Navigator and pulling out onto Thomas Street, back tracking past Sanibel's still empty lots, and north towards the better neighborhoods.

Nick's eyes were trained on his mileage tracker and Mark knew he was just waiting for it to hit close to whatever his radius of life was. But he didn't stop him as he turned down Landing Drive and pulled into the left side of his driveway. Swallowing the lump in his throat at the sight of his father's Mustang he killed the engine and got out. Silently, Nick followed him, taking in their new surrounding as Mark unlocked the door and set his bag down.

Nick kicked the door closed behind them and Mark almost snapped at him not to because he didn't want to get yelled at for leaving dirty footprints on the door. He couldn't bring himself to do it though. Now that he was in his house, could see and smell his father's presence all around him, his didn't trust himself to speak. Five days. It was the first time he'd been home in the five days since his father's heart attack. His father would probably never get the chance to yell at him for such a trivial thing again–or for bring Nick home, or befriending him or just anything.

He pulled the door to his basement bedroom open and clomped down the staircase with Nick trotting behind him. Nick plopped down on his bed as Mark rummaged for a simple outfit to wear. He almost started striping off his dirty clothes but the way Nick's dark eyes were trained on him from where he was reclined on the bed stopped him.

"No need to be so shy, baby. I've had your damn cock down my throat, don't you remember?"

Of course he remembered. The memory of it still set his skin on fire and made his toes curl in his shoes. He shucked his shirt and jacket into his laundry basket, kicked his shoes off and tossed his socks in as well. Then he headed into his private bathroom with Nick's amused voice echoing after him.

"Tease!"

Mark showered quickly, did a fast run through on his facial moisturizing routine, and then spent another fifteen minutes coiffing his hair just right. It was only when he had finished everything that he stopped long enough to see the new little bite marks all over his neck. There was no way a scarf would be able to cover all of that. He dug through his cabinet for his concealing lotion and smeared it all over his neck before rushing back into his room.

Or at least he tried to–Nick was leaning against the wall next to the doorway and blocked his exit when he appeared.

"Nick, move. We're going to be late–"

Nick's eyes were spanning the column of his neck, and there was a hint of disapproval and anger there that Mark didn't quite understand. He grabbed Mark by the hips, pinning them together. His eyes were dark with a dozen different emotions that Mark could barely grasp before they settled on possession–he wasn't happy with Mark's cover up.

"I marked you up for a reason, Sheme." he dragged a finger through the make-up, smudging it and uncovering part of the biggest hickey, "And it wasn't so you could test out your make-up."

"Then w-w-why did you?" Mark gasped as Nick sucked at the newly revealed mark and pressed him back into the wall. God, he hoped that concealing lotion wasn't toxic.

"I want everyone to know. To see you wear these proudly, shamelessly." he whispered against Mark's skin, scraping his teeth over the marks and quickly soothing his tongue over the sharp prick of pain, "I want them to see and know that it was my lips that put that there." He kissed the spot softly and traced his hand down to Mark's hip, pressing into the bruise he'd left there, "And this one is for you. So you remember that you're mine and nobody else's. And when you touch yourself and think about me at night, you'll run your fingers over it and remember how good it felt to have my tongue there–"Mark whimpered as Nick's lips cupped his chin. "How much you want my mouth to explore every part of you."

He shuddered as Nick's thumb pressed hard into the bruise and came to a quick decision. They were going to be so very late today–if they even made it to school at all.

He pulled Nick's lips up to his in a hard, searing kiss. As Nick's hands reached up and grabbed his face he sighed against his lips, letting Nick's tongue slip into his mouth. He was so content in Nick's arms no matter what was going on around him–including the soft footsteps echoing down the stairs.

"Mark, are you here?...Mark! Oh thank god! I've been so–"

Him and Nick broke apart and away from the wall, but Nick's hands slid down to his back, keeping him firmly pressed against him as he rubbed soft circles into his lower back. Carole had stopped on the last step, her jaw dangling around her knees as she stared at them.

"...um, worried." she finished lamely, stepping fully into the room, her cheeks tinged pink. She was staring at where their bodies were pressed together still looking thoroughly surprised by Nick's presence. Embarrassed Mark pulled out of Nick's embrace and hugged himself. He'd completely forgotten to call Carole and tell her he wasn't staying at her house last night. Or that he wasn't going to the hospital or just to tell her _anything_.

"Carole, I'm so sorry. I just...last night I couldn't stand to go back and sit there and I just–we were working on our project at Nick's and just–"

Carole was at his side in a second, taking him gently by the shoulders and making him look at her, "It's okay, sweetheart. I know how hard all of this is on you. Just, please call me next time you aren't coming to my house. Tell me where you are and who you're with."

Her eyes fell on a spot behind his shoulder–Nick. For just having his tongue down the boy's throat he'd completely forgotten he was still in the room. Carole looked at him expectantly, and just by the little smile he saw in her eyes he relaxed. He turned around and tugged a very resistant Nick forward by the arm.

"Carole, this is Nick. He's–" he paused, not entirely sure where they stood anymore. Nick wanted to claim him as his alone it seemed but he couldn't even admit to liking him. God, he didn't know anymore. "We're–"

"We're fuck buddies."

"Oh my _god._ We are _not._" Mark insisted crossly, face burning at the way Carole was mouthing at them wordlessly.

"Really?" Nick said slyly, nudging him with his shoulder, "Do you have a better explanation for why my stomach's still digesting your semen?"

The asshole was back. Mark glared at him furiously, but couldn't bring himself to refute that statement because it was _fucking_ _true_. He missed the simplicity of Nick's moments of sweetness already. But there was still a comforting reassurance in knowing that Nick was still Nick. He hadn't completely changed, or maybe changed at all. Perhaps the softness had always been there and it had taken Mark's presence to unbury it. At least until they weren't alone.

"Nick, that's a very rude thing to say." Carole told him, falling into mom mode, and shooting Mark a questioning look.

The cocky grin was almost wolf-like as he traced his eyes over Mark. "We did a lot of _rude_ things last night that had him screaming."

He was so infuriating. It's was like he couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to hold onto Mark or shove him away forever. Mark would have loved nothing more than to yank his lip over his swollen head and hope he choked on himself. But it was way too early for him to try and figure out the physics behind such a feat, so he settled for angrily stalking off up the stairs, ignoring Carole's plea for him to stop.

His feet had barely reached the landing when a hand slide into his, spinning him around and pressing him close to a warm, hard body.

"Get _off_, Nick." he snarled.

As usual Nick didn't listen. He held him close, tilting their foreheads together, his hands resting on Mark's hips. His breath was shaky as if he'd just vaulted up the stairs after Mark. His anger flickered away just a little bit at the thought.

"I'm–shit, look I–I'm sorry, all right?" Nick's hands slid up his sides and neck, cupping his jaw as his thumbs brushed against Mark's cheeks. The gesture was incredibly intimate for Nick and he really wished it would happen more. It also didn't escape his notice how much easier that apology had been–or that it had only happened when they were alone.

"Why do you have to say such_ stupid_ things?" Mark said in frustration, "Don't you know how that...how it makes me feel?"

"I..._fuck_, I don't know. I just _do_." Nick grumbled, stroking his fingers through the hair at the base of Mark's neck. But Mark knew he was lying, could feel it in the way he shifted against him restlessly. Nick knew exactly why he said such crude things. Only he didn't trust Mark enough to tell him–he didn't seem to trust anyone completely. Mark couldn't really blame him from the little he did know about Nick. Why was it every time he learned more about Nick he felt like he'd never learned anything at all? He'd uncover one secret and realize there were a hundred more attached to it.

"I wish you wouldn't do that just because we aren't alone." Mark said quietly.

He hated how easily Nick had gotten to him with one simple, idiotic comment. God, he was going to drown in this boy if he kept this going. He was already raising his chin up towards the sky to put it off just a little bit longer; to feel that golden sunlight warm his face for another moment before he sunk beneath the surface. He'd told himself he'd need patience to get through all the barriers and shields Nick had erected, but whether or not he had the strength to survive it was something he wasn't ready to find out.

"I'd say I won't, but I don't think that's a promise I can keep." Nick whispered against his lips and Mark melted against them despite his reservations. His lips moved softly against his own, just a light, moist pressure as if a butterfly's wing was fluttering against them. And he knew. Nick was so worth the effort and the pain as long as he always felt this way when they were together.

A throat was cleared sharply behind them and Mark jumped away from Nick, spinning around to find Carole watching them _again_.

"You boys are going to be late for school if you don't hurry." she said simply, and there was a smile in her eyes as she watched them interact. Mark found himself smiling as well as Nick brushed a stray hair off of his forehead. He shuffled off towards the hall and scooped up his bag, Nick and Carole following behind him.

They'd almost made it out the door when Carole stopped them.

"One more thing," she said catching Nick by the elbow. He jerked away from her grasp looking astonished that she actually touched him.

"Nick I want your address and phone number for whenever Mark's at your house again."

Nick simply raised his eyebrows, still looking shocked at the gentle hand that was back on his elbow. When he didn't answer, Mark spoke up.

"317 Thomas Street, apartment 5C." But he stopped after that. He didn't think Nick had a phone or any other way to get in contact with him than to physically go to his place.

Carole typed it into her phone and said, "And the phone number?"

"Don't have one." Nick told her simply. Shifting his bag around on his shoulder and pulling the front door open.

Carole looked both confused and amazement at his words. "You don't–but surely your parents need one–"

She'd said the magic word, Mark knew. Nick flinched at his side and when he spoke his voice could have cut a diamond.

"I don't have those either."

Mark shot her an apologetic look as Nick strutted out of the house, and promised to explain just _everything_ better later.

The ride to Sanibel was silent. Part of him was surprised that Nick had actually admitted such a thing to Carole. He'd didn't entirely understand why he'd done that. He probably never would have told Mark if he hadn't asked him directly. Was he trying to scare Carole off? Because Mark knew how Carole was, and once they sat down at the hospital this afternoon and he explained everything she'd probably be over at Nick's apartment everyday with a pot of stew, a bag of Jake's old clothes and try to squeeze him to death.

He really couldn't see Nick just doing a roundabout and falling into her arms weeping. There was even a plausible scenario of that happening with _him_, and he was almost one hundred percent positive that if anyone would get pass all of Nick's barriers it was going to be him.

School went by almost too fast for him that day. He barely remembered sitting down in English before he was speeding through a French lecture and dodging sticky spitballs from Chase. Time whipped ahead of him again and he was tinkering through a chemistry lab assignment while across the room Nick "accidentally" set some jock's lab coat on fire. It was one of William's group Mark knew and just the fact that Nick was giving them a taste of their own shit brightened his day just a bit.

He didn't hang around to see anyone after the final bell. As much as he'd dreaded going to the hospital yesterday he hated that he'd been apart from his father for so long. It was one of the most bizarre feelings he'd ever had. As soon as he pulled into the visitor's lot he just wanted to pull right now out on to the highway and leave. Carole was just finishing her shift when he got there and they spent the better part of the next three hours curled up on the little cot that was now a permanent fixture in his father's room.

And he just unloaded everything on her. He told her that Nick lived alone and that his parents were dead. That he thought Nick's grandfather was helping pay for the little apartment that was more like a motel room and that even if he wanted to he didn't think he could stop hanging around Nick. There was a sweet, caring boy tucked away under all the heartless words and callus, crude suggestions. A boy nobody else had stuck around long enough to see that was in desperate need of someone to just _be there_.

And Mark was more determined than ever to be there for as long as Nick wanted or needed him. Until he'd unraveled all of the mysteries and had Nick laid bare before him, with his heart finally opened and ready to accept his own.

He would stick it out and wait even if it meant waiting forever. Because forever with Nick still wouldn't be long enough. Thursday was the day Mark was dreading for one very specific reason–Perfroming Arts Club. When Jake had finally arrived at the hospital the previous night, dripping mud and muck all over the pristine floor from his football cleats, he plopped down and told him he might have, maybe, just possibly let it slip to Sam, Mike, and Artie at practice that he hadn't spent the night at the Hudson's house. It had taken Sam only two seconds to immediately jump to conclusions. Unfortunately for Mark those conclusions turned out to be catastrophically accurate.

In the morning, he hadn't even made it into the building before he was bombarded by Jen and curious looking Georgia.

"Heard you lost your V card, Sheme." She eyed him closely as he flushed and walked faster. He was almost thankful when the girls stopped walking until–

"Oh my god. Did you _top_ him?"

He froze as the realization of why they'd stopped hit him right between the eyes . They wanted to see if he was walking awkwardly or limping or whatever his walk was supposed to be doing after he'd been fucked. How the hell was he supposed to know which of those it was going to be until Nick actually–

Judging by the look Jen was giving him she was taking the flaming glow on his face as a sign that what she'd said was true. She dragged her eyes up his body slowly, almost critically, then cocked her head and gave a little shrug.

"Never would have called that. I guess you _are_ taller than him and that's how it works, right?"

Rubber wheels screeched to a holt behind her and Georgia looked around on the ground, saying, "Lord Tubbington, why are you hissing? Are you still mad I took away your cigarettes?"

When she didn't spot the feline, she wandered away into the parking lot in search.

Nick popped his skateboard up and swung it by the trunk. His eyes followed Georgia's progress for a moment.

"Not the brightest, is she? Hell of an imagination." He turned back to them. Mark almost missed the way his eyes softened just a bit as they met his and then Nick turned to Jen, who was eyeing his stance for any irregularities.

"It definitely doesn't work like that. The only way he's getting on top is when he's riding me." A lecherous smirk tugged at his lips, but there was a teasing light in his eyes that Mark had never seen before. Or maybe he'd just always been to furious and flustered by those comments to notice.

"You better get used to being ridden into a mattress then, Atkinson. I don't like lying there like a sack of potatoes."

Jen's jaw, much to his surprise, fell open just a bit at their flirting. Were they flirting? It certainly felt like it, or at least sharing some private, dirty joke. Nick looked just a little surprised at his bold words too.

"Come on, babe. Let's get to class so we don't upset the cockblock."

A hand slide around his waist and before he knew it every eye was on them as they walked into the building and down the halls to their first block class. He knew this was only going to add more fuel to the fire he was going to be burning in during Perfroming Arts this afternoon, but he honestly couldn't find it within himself to care. Nick was pressing their sides close, his thumb caressing his hipbone through the thin material of his shirt, and he was talking–_just talking_–about whatever they were supposed to have read for today. And god, it just felt so natural, so normal, he could almost forget how not normal their relationship was.

Were they boyfriends? Or exclusive? He didn't know. The thought of Nick being with anyone else bothered him immensely, but he had to remind himself. Patience. Don't push Nick or you'll lose what little you've got left. Because he didn't think–no, he _knew_ if Nick disappeared from his life now when everything else was going to hell he'd crumble too.

"–sound good to you, babe?...Mark..._Mark!_"

He slammed right into Nick's chest. He hadn't even noticed that Nick had moved in front of him. Hot breath, tickled his face as Nick laughed and slipped his arms around his waist, tugging him close and preventing him from bouncing backwards onto his ass.

Flushing at the stares they were now attracting as the crowd parted around them, he tried to find something to do with his pinned arms, settling on placing his palms on the other boy's chest. There really wasn't anything else he _could_ do with them. He stared into Nick's beautiful, tired looking eyes, feeling the warmth of Nick's skin seeping into his fingers even through the dark shirt he was wearing. It made his breath catch in his throat at just how right and safe he felt in that moment even with the entire Sanibel population sneering at them as the crowd parted around them.

"What were you saying?"

"Do you want to finish that project at my place tonight? After your rehearsal or whatever?"

He was still distracted. Horribly, beautifully, mesmerized really. Nick's eyes were sparkling with something he couldn't quite place, but it was a look that somehow brightened his entire face and he looked almost _happy_. His heart thumped painfully in his chest at the thought because he knew if Nick had realized it, it wouldn't be staring him in the face right then. If Nick had known he was falling in love he'd run like hell and forget anything had ever happened.

"Yeah, I've got Perfroming Arts until the usual time. Do you want...do you want to go with me?"

Nick's gaze lingered on his hopeful expression for a moment and the sparkle shrunk slightly at his suggestion.

"I can't. I've got–"

"Detention." Mark finished softly for him. He couldn't help but he disappointed. For a moment he'd gotten his hopes up that he might not have to face their questions alone this afternoon. If there was one thing he could count on with Nick at his side it was a lot more reluctance for people to question them.

"Job interview actually." Nick grunted, suddenly pulling away, subconsciously curling his arms around himself. A few straggling students filtered off into their classrooms and suddenly they were alone. The answer shocked Mark a bit, but not more than the reaction that accompanied it. Why was he embarrassed by something like that?

"That's great." he said, as the hazel-green eyes flickered back up to his.

Nick shrugged a little and said darkly, "It's a waste of time. As soon as they see this–" he shook his ankle monitor–"I'll be out the door. "

"You don't know that–"

"It's happened seventeen times since May. I damn well _do_ know it." Nick sneered angrily. And all of his shields were suddenly slamming up so hard, Mark actually took a step back. Before he could say anything else, Nick has turned and breezed through the doorway to their English classroom, leaving Mark alone in the empty hallway.

He left Nick to cool off or stew or just whatever it was he was straightening out in his head. But the thing he hated most was that whenever he saw Nick get angry like that, it was directed at himself and not the morons judging him before they knew him. At the end of class, Nick asked again if their project was still set and then he didn't speak to him again until lunch. In both history and Environmental Science he dropped his head onto his desk and passed out until the bell. Neither of their teachers seemed to care in the least when they saw that the person snoring lightly was _Nick_. Yet, when the girl next to him did the same, she was woken up abruptly by a sharp slap on her desktop.

Mark didn't like that at all but he knew it was how Nick wanted it, how he'd made it. He didn't want people to care about him, he wanted them to expect absolutely nothing from him so that he could never disappoint them–so that nobody would ever get close.

Lunch was the first time Nick didn't fall asleep, but he still looked tired and Mark couldn't stop himself from asking as they dropped onto the same bench.

"Are you...you look tired." He settled on a comment instead. Questions, especially in the middle of a crowded lunchroom, probably wouldn't get a positive response.

He watched as Nick speared his grilled chicken breast onto his fork and lifted it to his mouth, tearing a big chunk off. His jaw worked slowly as he debated how he wanted to answer him. When he finally swallowed, he pulled a nonchalant expression onto his face.

"Bunch of drunks outside until dawn. Kept me up."

And Mark knew there was more to the story. He knew Nick was lying to him and still trying to keep him at arm's length. No, he was going to have to find a way to get Nick's trust without actually saying anything. Instead, he bit his tongue to stop himself from demanding the truth or more or just something that wedged the door into Nick's world open another inch.

So he did what Nick was always doing to him–he opted for a physical manifestation of what he felt. Slowly, he was beginning to realize if he ever going to reach Nick he was going to have to do in a way that Nick understood and was comfortable with, physicality–something he was still entirely new to. He slid his hand off of his lap, and after a brief hesitation at how Nick would react he curled it around the other boy's side, keeping his touch light and skittish. He felt Nick's body stiffen and his spoonful of peas froze as he twisted to look at him.

"Trying to come on to me, Sheme?" he said after a moment. The briefest flicker of wonder he saw in Nick's eyes made his heart coil strangely. Nick's spoon clattered to his tray as he wrapped his arm around Mark's body, tugging him close.

"It works better with more force." Mark felt himself slid another few inches, until their hips were sealed against one another. A soft nip brushed over the shell of his ear and Nick's laughter echoed loudly in it when he jumped slightly, "You've still got a long way to go on seduction, baby."

He expected the arm around his waist to disappear, but it didn't. After a quick debate, he snuggled himself closer to Nick's side and dropped his head onto the other boy's shoulder.

His heart swelled when Nick's cheek dipped and pressed against his hair.

Perfroming Arts Club was as much of a nightmare as he'd predicted. The incident from the parking lot that morning had been spread around to the rest of the club. Glaring furiously at Jen, Mark ignored all of their questions and ridiculous ideas and fumed in silence until Mr. Angelo showed up and got them to shut up. The solo drive over to Nick's gave him a chance to get over some of his frustration with the Perfroming Arts Club's newfound interest in his supposedly "raging hot sex life". Sometimes, he just really hated all of them and their gossip.

The lot was completely empty except for Nick when he pulled to a stop in his usual spot. Through his rearview mirror he watched Nick hop around on his skateboard for a minute before getting out. Nick rolled over to him and jumped off, letting the board bounce into his tire.

"How'd your job–"

He was cut off sharply as Nick shoved him roughly against the side of his Navigator and grabbed him by the face, sealing his eager mouth over his own. Mark choked down the breath he'd been breathing out as Nick pressed him harder against the car, dropping a hand to caress the curve of his ass as Mark parted his lips and kissed him back. They kissed feverishly for a few minutes, until Mark's brain was sloshing around in his skull and he couldn't see straight. Nick pulled away just as quickly as he'd descended on him. He popped up his skateboard and started towards the closest end of the complex, now fiddling with something in his hand.

"Hello to you, too." Mark mumbled sarcastically, readjusting his bag from where it had slid down to his elbow and following after Nick. He caught up as Nick stopped in front of a little dingy, opening at the end of the building. He was just starting to feel nervous at the dark enclosure when Nick pulled a key out of his pocket and twisted it into the wall. A little mailbox door sprung open and he dug out a few envelopes, tucked them into his armpit and locked it back up without a word to Mark.

The fact that Nick was completely ignoring him ticked him off way more than it should have. They shuffled down under the overhang towards Nick's door as Nick went back to fiddling with the object in his hands. Mark caught a glimpse of a little screen reflecting in the sunlight and a very familiar cell phone cover–

"How the hell did you get my phone?"

He ran a hand over his back pocket were he kept it just to be sure it was actually his. The pocket was empty but the touch of his fingers made him remember where Nick's hand had just been.

"Did you seriously just _pick-pocket _me?"

"Mhmm." Nick said, shouldering his door open and dropping his skateboard and mail onto the bed.

In disbelief, Mark watched Nick swing back around to the dresser and pick up the receiver on the slightly scuffed looking phone sitting there.

"Since when do you have a phone? Why do you need _mine_ if you've got that?"

He wasn't sure why he even bothered asking any more questions when he knew Nick wasn't going to answer him. Silently, Nick dialed out a number and then stared at the cell phone in his hand expectantly. Annoyed, Mark yanked his phone out of the other boy's grasp and demanded, "You can't just _take_ my–"

His phone started vibrating in his fist. He stared down at the unfamiliar number flashing across the touch screen for a moment and then he realized–Nick had just given him his phone number. Whether on purpose or not, he didn't know but it almost felt like he made some huge leap in trust with those ten little digits. And then his phone was twisted out of his grip as Nick hung up the other phone. He jotted down the phone number on a little slip of paper and tucked it into his pocket, discarding Mark's phone onto the dresser top.

Mark really didn't know what to say. He knew Nick had probably only used him to get his own phone number, but the fact still remained that if he wanted to he could call Nick and talk to him or see if he wanted to get together and–he gulped and flushed a bit–_do things_. If he couldn't even think the words to himself, he didn't know how he'd ever manage to make such a suggestion over the _phone_.

The door was slammed closed behind him and the trunk dragged to its usual place. Strong arms looped around his chest as a warm nose nuzzled against his neck. For a few moments he just let Nick hold him and start sucking a rough bruise on his pulse point, his shoulder blades relaxing against Nick's chest. But they really didn't have the time for this today. He'd promised to be at the hospital by half past seven and they hadn't even started on any part of their project.

"Nick, we can't. I've got to be at the-the hospital in a-a few..." he trailed off, his head falling back as he panted out a breathless moan. Two days, he reminded himself, it had only been two days. There was no way he was already this desperate and needy for Nick's touch. His body seemed to have a polar opposite view if the way it was responding to the drag of Nick's hands was an indication.

The hem of his shirt was jerked roughly out of his pants only to be replaced by Nick's callused fingers a moment later. He'd never been more glad that he hadn't worn tight pants. Nick's heart was thumping hard against his back as he wiggled in his grasp, Nick's fingers teasing over his hardening erection through his boxer-briefs. Fuck, why did it have to feel so mind-blowingly fantastic? The last thing he ever wanted to do was say no to Nick Atkinson when his hand was down his pants and his thumb was brushing lightly over his cock and making him absolutely ache for more friction. He arched into the touch, feeling Nick's mouth pull away from his neck.

"I've missed touching you so much..." The words skimmed over his cheek as Nick pressed down on him, pushing him back until he felt the hard bulge in Nick's jeans against his ass.

"Nick...we can't–god," he broke off to moan loudly and grinded against the hard cock jutting against him.

"Fuck, Mark." Nick groaned, biting down hard onto his shoulder to stifle a deep moan at the sudden friction rubbing against him.

It took all of his willpower to take a tiny step forward. The arms around him tightened and tried to pull him backwards but he tugged away.

"We-we can't." he panted, chest heaving. "We've got to finish our project. It's due Monday and I'm going to be at the hospital and busy with two papers all weekend."

Nick stared at him lustfully, eyes hooded and dark. Slowly, he nodded even though his gaze was now trained on the obvious bulge in Mark's pants. Mark slid his bag off his shoulder and set it on the bed, digging out his notes and the assigned paperback. Nick shuffled over and dug out a notebook and his own copy from the little pile of books at the end of the bed.

They spent the next two hours working steadily through their assignment only getting distracted a handful of times when their legs or hands brushed. Mark even managed to ignore the way Nick pressed his still obvious hard-on against his thigh for the first fifteen minutes of work. By the time the sun was setting around seven o'clock, Mark was quite impressed with the report they'd created in the presence of all the sexual tension. He'd only hoped that they could have finished a bit earlier so they could return to _other things._ He felt himself go pink at the thought.

Nick noticed immediately and latched onto his side quickly, hooking his leg over Mark's and trying to trap him to the bed.

"I'm sure they won't mind if you're a little late..." he mumbled against Mark's ear, flicking his tongue out and curling it around the shell. And Mark almost caved. His hand shot out and caressed Nick's thigh both pushing and pulling at it as he struggled to make a decision. It wasn't easy when he was half hard in his pants; had been since the door had closed almost two hours ago.

"Nick," he sighed, trying to push the boy's leg off unsuccessfully as he accepted a soft kiss against his lips, " I have to go to the hospital. Carole and Jake are waiting for me."

Stiffness trickled down Nick's body at his words. It was with incredible ease that his slid out from under Nick's leg and stood.

"Don't...come on, Mark." Nick scooted across the bed after him and pulled him back, wrapping an arm around Mark's thighs and lifting his still un-tucked shirt so that he could press his mouth against the smooth, toned skin. "Please...please stay."

His voice was so quiet, almost pleading that Mark paused. Nick took his lack of motion as a sign to continue. The lower buttons on his shirt were undone before he had time to think about pulling away. Soft lips kissed a slow, wet trail up his stomach as more skin was exposed.

"Stay with me, baby." Nick breathed against his skin, chilling the wet patches from his lips.

"Nick, I _can't_." he whimpered pitifully, running his hands into Nick's hair and pulling Nick's face away from where he wanted to keep it. "I have to be there in twenty minutes." He dropped his hands and tugged himself away from Nick, "I'm sorry. I have to go now."

He re-buttoned his shirt as heard the bed creak behind him. Nick seemed almost desperate, but in a different way than he'd ever been before. It was like he was begging and that didn't make sense to Mark. Never had Nick begged. He'd been forceful and persistent certainly, but there was something so different in what had just happened that it unnerved him and made his heart flutter at the same time. He wanted Mark around.

As the trunk was shifted away from the door, he heard the distant sound of loud voices approaching the building. Nick froze, listening hard as the voices slowly got louder. Mark grabbed his bag and opened the door taking a nervous glance outside. A group of four men were walking through the parking lot from the street, all of them with brown bags in their fists. He didn't have to be an alcoholic to know what was hidden in those. These must be the same men from Tuesday; the same ones that had kept Nick awake last night.

"I'll walk you out."

Nick's voice surprised him. So did the offer, even though it was more of an order. A hand hooked around his elbow and guided him out of the room, the door closing so quietly Mark barely heard it. They were halfway across the parking lot when one of the men shouted after them.

"Found yourself a little faggot ass to fuck, did you Atkinson?"

He was slurring terribly and Mark knew he was well on his way to drunk. The other men turned to follow his gaze and two of them chuckled appreciatively at the drunken shout. The grip on his arm tightened as a knot of fear twisted in his stomach.

"Don't stop walking. Get in your car and go."

The order was firm and Mark's steps only faltered for a moment before he obeyed. By the time he reached his Navigator the men were face to face with Nick. his hand paused on the door handle. He couldn't bring himself to just _leave_ Nick to deal with this alone. They were still close enough that he could hear what they were saying.

"Ah, look, guys. Faggot's trying to protect his little cum bucket." It was a different man speaking this time. He was the only one who seemed like he was sober. "We just wanna meet your little friend–"

Something flashed as Nick's hand reached around and dug into his pocket. A cry broke the air and the men staggered backwards in alarm, the one who had been talking was now clutching at his cheek.

"How many times do I have to tell you to back the fuck _off_." Nick snarled, advancing a step and holding up what he'd taken from his pocket. It was a little pocket knife, the same one he'd used to carve into his desk in English. The blade was now stained red in the fading sunlight. The man dabbed at the blood from the gash on his cheek, his dark eyes glinting angrily.

"You stupid little sh–"

The blip of a siren and the flash of blue and red lights entered the parking lot. Mark rushed over to Nick forcing the bloody knife into his pocket as the cops got out of their car.

"What's going on here?"

If he'd believed in God, he would be on his knees right now thanking him. He knew that voice. Jim Ferguson, one of his father's friends and a frequent visitor to the garage.

The group of men shuffled off quickly, with a few quick grumbles of "Nothing." and "Just saying hi." and "Have a good night, officers." Jim and his partner still approach the boys.

"Mark?" the thinner of the two called, squinting to get a good look at the teenagers.

"Yeah, it's me, Jim."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jim stopped in front of him, taking a good look at his scared face and the way his was clutching Nick's arm in a vice-like grip.

"With a friend working on a school project." he said quickly, tugging Nick's arm slightly to get him to speak or react or do _something_. Nick turned his icy gaze away from the men's' retreating backs and over to the cops. If anything his expression only turned nastier.

"See you later, Sheme." he grunted, yanking himself from Mark's grasp and heading back into his room.

Jim watched him go for a moment, before he turned back to Mark.

"You look a bit shaken up. Are you sure you're okay?"

Mark nodded silently, watching Nick's door snap shut across the lot.

"How's your father doing? I heard he was in the hospital."

"I'm heading there now. He's still in a coma." As he said it he felt his heart sink. Tomorrow it would be a week since his heart attack.

"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy. You go on then. Want us to follow you out of here?" Jim asked, clapping him on the shoulder gently.

"No, no. I'll be fine." Mark said numbly, heading back to his Navigator and starting it up. He pulled out of the parking lot quickly, not wanting Jim and his partner to be suspicious or concerned if he sat there for too long. Once he was several streets away he pulled over and put on the brakes. His hands were shaking where they were gripping the steering wheel. He heaved in a few gasps of air, feeling tears prick his eyes.

Why did people have to be so stupid and hateful? They probably taunted Nick like that every day. Every single damn _day._ He was terrified from just a minute's glance at it. Last night they'd done god only knows what that kept Nick awake all night. Awake all night in fear. He remembered the shatter of a bottle against the door the night he'd stayed. Had they tried to break in and hurt him? Or simply stayed outside of his door all night, shouting at him and shattering their empty bottles against his door?

He shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest, hiccupping slightly, taking a few steadying breaths to regain a little control over himself.

It was almost eight when he finally entered his father's hospital room. Carole and Jake had pulled up chairs tonight and were sitting at his bedside. He let Carole's soothing voice wash over him as he told his father about her day.

"About time, dude!" Jake said when he caught sight of him. "I texted you like three times. Why didn't you answer?"

"No you didn't I would have felt–" But as he ran his hand over his back pocket he realized he didn't have his phone. It was still on the top of Nick's dresser.

"Oh, crap. I took it out of my pocket." he said quietly, closing his eyes as nerves hit him. He didn't know if he wanted to go back there if those guys had come back. He also couldn't stand the thought of Nick having to deal with them alone again. "I left it on Nick's dresser."

"On his dresser? You were in his _room_? Like _alone_?" Jake looked both shocked and angry.

"God, I don't need you to protect me, Jake." Mark snapped, and then added just to piss him off more, "And yes. I was in his room. And we were alone for _hours_."

Jake looked highly affronted at his words and was just opening his mouth to reply when Carole raised a hand. He snapped his jaw shut.

"I'm sure he'll see it and bring it to school tomorrow." she said reassuringly.

"Maybe." Mark said rather skeptically. Knowing Nick he'd use it as an excuse to make Mark come over–not that Mark minded in the least. "I can just stop by after I leave here. It's on the way back."

"That's going to be really late, sweetheart. I don't know if that's a good idea." Carole fretted.

"It's a quick stop. It'll take two minutes." he reassured her, pulling over a chair and slipping his hand into his father's limp one. After another half an hour Jake left for home to shower and get some homework done before bed. Carole left not long after to swing by the chain restaurant to grab them some take-out.

But Mark stayed, clamping his hands around his father's unresponsive fingers and rubbing little circles into the dry skin. It was only when Nurse Nancy came in at almost eleven and told him visiting hours were ending that he pecked his father on the cheek and shuffled miserably out to his car. He almost didn't turn off onto Nick's street, but he had to know that Nick was still okay. That tonight he might actually get some sleep. Steeling his nerves he pulled slowly into the dark parking lot. By some miracle it was empty. He took another moment to be sure as he killed the engine and his lights before he darted quickly across the lot and banged his hand on Nick's door.

"Nick! It's Mark! Let me–"

The heavy scrap of a trunk echoed from inside and the door was flung open. A hand grabbed his shirt front and yanked him inside. The door snapped closed and he half expected Nick to pin him against it and kiss him breathless. But he didn't. On the contrary, he looked furious.

"What the hell are you doing here? Do you have shit for brains?"

"What? I-I left my phone..." Mark said in confusion, feeling his own anger prickle under the surface at Nick's words.

"After what almost happened earlier? Are you seriously _that _naive?" Nick demanded. His face was flushed with his disbelief and anger. As Mark stared guilty at him taking in his bare torso, he couldn't bring himself to admit the real reason he'd wanted to stop by. But still, Nick was worried about him, _cared_ about him.

"Here. Take your damn phone." Nick picked it up off the desk and chunked it at him. He almost didn't catch it because when Nick had moved he caught sight of something that made his heart stop. There was a single-serving packaged piece of pie sitting on top of the mini-fridge. But that wasn't necessarily what had caught his attention–it was the little flickering candle poking out of it. There was only one occasion that he could think of that needed that.

"Nick, why do you–is that–" he gestured vaguely towards the dessert and Nick froze, his jaw clinching and his eyes widening in panic.

"It's nothing." Nick said quickly, as he rushed to blow it out and stuff it into the mini-fridge, "Just some pie–"

"It's your birthday." Mark said slowly, quietly, latching his hand around Nick's wrist to stop him from putting it away. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It–it doesn't–it's not important." Nick grumbled, looking completely horrified and embarrassed at what Mark had walked in on. The fact that he was letting Mark see anything of what he was feeling made Mark hold on even tighter. He wasn't going anywhere tonight.

Gently, Mark took the pie out of his hand and pushed him over to the bed. It broke his heart to hear Nick say that; for him to think he wasn't even important enough for a birthday celebration even if it was just the two of them.

He snatched Nick's lighter and the plastic fork off of the fridge as well and dropped down next to him, placing the little pie in his hands as he flicked the lighter a couple of times trying to get it to light. Frustrated when he couldn't get it to catch, Nick chuckled softly and took it from his fist. With a deft flick he had it lit and pressed it against the candle's wick.

He tossed it onto the nightstand once it was flickering again and Mark looped his arms around Nick's, resting his cheek on Nick's shoulder. Nick's body was still slightly rigid at how unexpected this situation was for him, but he slowly began to relax as Mark started singing softly.

"_Happy Birthday to you..."_

The pie was trembling slightly in Nick's grasp when he was finished and he pressed a sweet kiss to Nick's cheek, and whispered softly, "Make a wish, Nick."

There was a moment's pause before Nick leaned down a little and blew the candle out. He handed the fork to Nick as he nuzzled his nose against the boy's cheek. He was surprised when the first bite was offered to him, but he accepted, letting Nick feed him. He smiled and snuggled closer as they ate in silence for several minutes, alternating forkfuls between themselves.

"My mom used to do this with me." Nick's soft voice broke through the comfortable silence as he feed Mark another bite of pie, "It's one of the only things I remember. Every birthday, she'd wake me up right before midnight with pie or cake or whatever so she could be the first to wish me happy birthday."

He felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs at Nick's words. Because he could just imagine the little boy from the picture, curled up asleep in his Batman pajamas hugging a little teddy bear to his chest, being woken up gently by the bright smile of an adoring mother. He'd rub his eyes, his curls tangled and sleep-tousled as she placed the plate on his lap, smiling even wider at the excitement that would stretch across his face.

He blinked a few times, trying to shoved back the heat pressing against his eyes as they finished off the pie. Nick tossed the empty container into the trash bin and kept his gaze fixed on some spot on the wall. He knew Nick was incredibly unnerved by all of this, that he couldn't wrap his mind around why Mark had stayed and celebrated his mother's old tradition with him.

With a sure hand, Mark reached up and cupped his cheek, turning him to face him. He moved in slowly, giving Nick a chance to pull back.

"Do you um, want your birthday present now?" Mark mumbled, trying to sound seductive or sexy but really, he'd never felt more ridiculous. He was blushing hard as he pressed a soft kiss to Nick's lips. God, he was terrible at this.

"Bullshit. You didn't get me anything." Nick said, calling his bluff. Mark couldn't deny it but he wanted to give him something else. Something they'd both been desperate for earlier though he didn't know just how far he was willing to go. He only knew he didn't want to leave.

"That doesn't mean I don't have something to give you." Mark hinted, pushing at Nick's shoulder to get him to slide back on the bed. Eyebrows raised, eyes alight with a sudden enthusiastic excitement, Nick slide back until his back was pressed against the wall and flicked the lamp off. Even in the sudden darkness Mark could see the hand held out to him, eager to pull him closer and accept his offer.

Mark readily slid his hand into Nick's, and unlike earlier this hand clamped tightly around his own and pulled him forward. Slightly surprised at the tug, he overbalanced and fumbled as he fell into Nick's chest, giggling giddily. He pushed himself off of Nick's chest that was vibrating with soft laughter and swung his leg over Nick, his knees pressing it the mattress as he trapped him to the bed.

He brushed a hand through the thick, messy curls on Nick's forehead, pushing them back and pressing a little kiss against his skin. Nick sighed softly, his hands running along Mark's thighs to pull him closer and press him down harder. As Nick's hips bucked up under him, his cock already hard and desperate for friction, Mark raised himself up.

"Mark." Nick growled in exasperation, grabbing onto Mark's ass and trying to rub them together again, "Come _on_."

"No. I want to try something." he said softly, pressing a firm hand down on Nick's arching hips. "Please, baby. Just relax and–just relax."

He'd almost said trust me. And he knew if he said it, Nick wouldn't. As Nick's hips dropped back down, Mark settled back into his lap, massaging his thumbs against Nick's temple and brushing his lips lightly over his eyebrow ring. On a sudden inspiration, he popped the little metal loop between his lips and tugged at it gently, twisting his tongue around it and against Nick's skin. A shaky groan washed against his neck as Nick shifted below him. He pulled back enough for their eyes to meet, seeing the hesitation and wonder in Nick's gaze. Mark knew he'd never experienced anything like this, had always been rough and quick in his sexual encounters. There was so much more he wanted than just that with Nick; so much more he wanted to share. He only hoped Nick felt the same.

"Please." he said again, trailing his fingers tenderly over Nick's face and neck. "I want to make you feel good."

Mark held his unsure gaze for a few long moments, feeling his skin burning under the hands caressing over his thighs. And Mark knew if Nick couldn't bring himself to let go and trust him in this kind of setting then he never would. When Nick's head bobbed up and down just a few inches he almost squealed in joy.

"Just close your eyes." he whispered breathlessly, pressing his lips against Nick's cheekbone so lightly it was more like a tickle. A shiver coursed through Nick, strong enough that Mark could feel the body below him tremble as Nick's eyes drifted closed. His hands and lips moved slowly, not even really touching, just ghosting over Nick's face and neck. He placed a few fluttering kisses on his eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw and chin, purposely avoiding Nick's parted lips. If he kissed Nick's lips he knew he'd never want to stop and right now all he wanted to do was explore and taste all of Nick that he could.

The look of utter fascination on Nick's face as his eyes fluttered open mesmerized him and made his heart swell to twice its normal size as he pulled away for a moment. Cheeks flushed faintly and breathing in sharply, Nick pressed his hands hard into his back trying to bring him back down to kiss him. Mark resisted though, and Nick whined faintly as Mark trailed his hands down to Nick's chest. A few little hairs tickled against his fingertips and his own stomach clinched, his shirt rustling scratchily against his skin. He quivered at the heat shooting down his spine and coiling in his lower stomach.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?"

A soft hum of agreement rumbled along Nick's neck as Mark re-attached his lips more firmly, sucking gently and dragging his tongue out to taste the salty skin. His own heart rate was starting to race and as much as he wanted to keep this slow pace and tease Nick, he didn't think he could manage it. As Nick's hips rolled up against him Mark squirmed in his lap, gasping at the throbbing erection he could feel pressing insistently against him.

God, he needed more. Now. He dropped his lips to Nick chest, feeling the few little dark hairs prickle against his lips as he slid his hands over Nick's ribs. A loud moan rent the air as Nick's hips snapped up against him, raising him several inches off of the bed. He could feel Nick's stomach muscle contracting against him as he moaned too.

"God, Mark. Just–_fuck_, let me kiss you." Nick groaned, rolling his hips up again as Mark pressed his lips back to his chest.

"Not yet." Mark said shakily, tracing his fingers over Nick's ribs again making the boy buck up under him again. This time he couldn't stop his hips from jerking down, his own cock rubbing roughly against his jeans. He hissed at the drag over the zipper but let it go. There was just one more thing he wanted to try before he completely lost control of what they were doing. The hands on his thighs were forcing him to move with Nick's jerky thrusts up against him. Sweat was beading across his forehead, and it was really way to hot with all of these clothes on but he slid down Nick's body anyway, pressing his tongue into Nick's side and dragging it up his ribs.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck._" Nick shouted, hand fisting into Mark's hair as he thrust hard up against him. Mark let out a shaky laugh as Nick arched his hips as high as he could, pressing his throbbing cock against Mark's shirt and rubbing hard as he searched for friction.

With one last ounce of control, he slid his fingers under the waistband of Nick's pants and boxers and jerked them down his hips. He moved down dragging them the rest of the way off of Nick's legs with a few helpful kicks from Nick that finally freed him. Growling Nick pushed himself forward and pulled Mark's mouth down to his hard.

Whimpering, Mark kissed him back hard and ground his hips down as he slid back into Nick's lap. Teeth scraped over his bottom lip, tugging it roughly and making Mark gasp. Nick's tongue was suddenly licking across his teeth, tangling inside around his own and thrusting hard against it. A thrill of ecstasy coursed through him, his nerve endings tingling at what Nick's tongue was mimicking.

God, he wanted it. He wanted this boy so much. Wanted to love him and be loved and just share everything about himself with him.

He broke his mouth away from Nick's after a particularly delicious slid against his cock, throwing his head back and choking out a low, growly moan.

"Fuck, why aren't you naked?" Nick panted against his neck, not even waiting for an answer as he jerked Mark's rumpled shirt out of his pants and starts fumbling with the buttons. The rush of cool air over his pale, scorching skin made him moan faintly as the sweat chilled. And then Nick curled his spine just enough to drag his tongue from his stomach up his chest, lapping up the beads of sweat on his newly exposed skin.

"Oh, god." he cried out. "More, Nick, _please._"

His whole body was trembling and aching, every pore and nerve desperate for stimulation yet already it felt like too much. Nick pushed his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere behind him as he rolled them over. He didn't even care where it landed or if it ripped or stayed in a tangled heap all night and was completely ruined. None of it matter because their sweaty chests were flushed together, his taut nipples rubbing against Nick's.

Two hands pulled at his belt, fumbling with the strap and clinking the buckle apart before yanking it out of his belt loops. His hips raised of the bed slightly at the tug but then Nick's surged forward slamming them back down thrusting his bare cock against the scratchy fabric of Mark's jeans. Mark whined as the force of Nick's rocking hips pushed him up the bed a few inches. Really, Nick did have an excellent point. Why the hell _wasn't_ he naked? He'd been dreaming about rutting naked against each other for way too long.

He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans as Nick kept rolling his hips down hard against him. His hands were shaking and every bit of pressure against his aching cock elicited a soft moan. The sound of his zipper being pulled down made Nick pause, his breathing shaky. And then his hands were pushing hastily at his waistband too, tugging his pants and boxer-briefs down as Mark shimmed his hips to wiggle out of them.

When Nick leaned back down to capture his mouth in a hungry kiss, his knee pressing between Mark's legs to spread them apart, Mark arched up, breathless with anticipation. Something heavy, hard, and throbbing slid against his cock and he moaned long and loud, feeling his balls tug up as Nick thrust up sliding them together. The pre-cum was making them both slick as they rocked together and hazily Mark decided that he had been right. So very right. Nothing would ever be able to compare to the feeling of Nick pulsing and sliding against him between the heat of their sweaty bodies.

"Fuck, Nick." he whimpered, swinging his legs around Nick's thighs and planting his feet firmly into the bed. As Nick thrust his hips down again, harder and more urgently, Mark braced himself with his feet and raised his hips up to meet him.

A bead of sweat dripped off of Nick's neck and onto his stomach as they both moaned desperately and arched into each other again, their erections twitching at the friction. Mark's legs were shaking too much for him to hold himself up much longer and he dropped his hips back down, his muscles burning, his torso covered in a sheen of sweat.

Nick dropped down with him, using his elbows to support his weight as he slowed the pace of his hips and sucked on Mark's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Mark, I–god, can I finger you?" Nick asked desperately against his mouth. His lips froze against Nick's, his brain slightly numb at the words, and he felt Nick stiffen and pull away quickly. Just the slightest hesitation had Nick closing in on himself. And god, it wasn't even that he didn't want to. The suggestion if anything had shocked him and then made him ache even more.

Nick had rolled over and sat up next to him, and he could tell just from the set of his jaw that he was throwing all of his barriers up. Without a thought, Mark rolled over and into his lap pushing Nick's hand away when he tried to shove him off.

"No, no, Nick. Please just..." he pressed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling like a bunch of wriggling snakes were slithering around in his stomach. His cock bounced slightly as he shifted, tapping against the wet head of Nick's. He bit his lip and tried to stop the moan and the feeling from distracting him from what he needed to say. "I want you to, I do." And god, he did. His whole body was aching with a desire he couldn't ignore.

Nick's hands traced over his hips at his words, his eyes becoming less guarded as his fingers pressing in lightly as he looked up at Mark. "Then what?"

"I've never–not even by myself–" he mumbled nervously as Nick's hands skimmed around the curve of his ass and squeezed his cheeks. His head fell forward onto Nick's shoulder and he panted out a broken moan arching back into the tight grip.

"Don't worry, baby." Nick whispered, nibbling on his ear. "I do it to myself all the time."

Mark moaned again at the thought and bit down on Nick's shoulder as a finger slid down between the halves of his ass and rubbed slowly up and down. He could feel himself pulsing as Nick's finger trailed down to his hole. The brush of his fingertip across the sensitive opening made his hips buck. Wow, that felt amazing.

"Lay on your stomach."

Mark hurried to do so, getting off of Nick's lap and laying himself face first onto the mattress next to Nick, giddy with nerves. The sheets afford him some friction and he couldn't stop himself from thrusting against them at the wonderful feeling.

"God, you're so gorgeous like this." Nick's voice was soft as he leaned across him and pulled the drawer on the nightstand open. Mark turned his head to watch his hand shift around inside for a moment before pulling out a half-empty bottle of lube. He hadn't been lying about doing it to himself all the time.

He turned to face the other way, watching as Nick laid on his side and pressed against him as he traced his finger tips down Mark's spine and down to his ass. He arched up into the touch, feeling Nick's hips jerk against his side. The pop of the plastic lid made him tense a little under Nick's hand.

"Shhh." Nick's mouth dipped and kissed at a spot on his lower back, "Just relax."

The warmth of Nick's hands disappeared as he coated his fingers in lube and Mark arched up helplessly desperate for Nick's touch beyond his hard cock jutting against his hip. And then something cold was dribbled down his ass crack and he gasped loudly because it was so cold it almost stung against his overheated flesh. But Nick's finger returned, slippery and warm, spreading it out and circling lower until it was rubbing over his hole, applying more pressure with every slick swipe.

The soft lips pressed against his warm, sweaty skin again, trailing up from the base of his spine to his neck and then around to his face as Nick's finger pressed more firmly against him. His breath hitched and he arched back and trying to get the digit to slip inside of him. He needed more.

Nick chuckled against his lips, "You're so fucking horny."

Before Mark could come back with a scathing reply Nick's thick finger slipped inside of him, stretching the ring of muscles as he buried himself up to the knuckle. He cried out, arching back against Nick's palm at the way it burned and stretched and still managed to feel so good.

Nick kissed his shoulder softly and kept his finger still, letting Mark adjust to the sensation.

"Move. _Now_," he demanded, rocking his hips a little so that Nick's finger slid out a few centimeters. Nick followed his movement, sliding his finger all the way out. The aching emptiness was worse than the slight burn from the initial stretch and he arched himself back to get Nick's finger back inside of him. He slowly pushed back in and Mark groaned turning his face into the sheets as his toes curled. Nick's lips returned to his back, sucking and licking as he started to thrust his finger in and out, burying it all the way to the knuckle before drawing it back out at a torturously slow pace.

Every press into him was at a slightly different angle and Mark knew what Nick was doing and knew what he was searching for and god, he couldn't wait until Nick found it. Nick's finger curved back on the next thrust pressing down inside of him and against the bundle of nerves he'd been searching for.

"Sweet fucking hell." he yelled, thrusting himself back onto Nick's hand and moaning louder than he thought was even possible.

He heard Nick groan against his back and as he stilled his finger inside of him, pressing down against the spot and making Mark's hips buck against the mattress. As Nick's finger slid out he whined and jerked his hips back to try and keep it inside. A moment later two fingers worked their way in, not even pausing for him to adjust. But he didn't even care, they had brushed against his prostate again and even though it burned a bit as he was stretched wider he could barely feel it over the exquisite pleasure that was coursing through him.

He rocked his hips back spreading his legs wider apart and pressing his knees into the mattress to raise his ass up a few inches so that he could fuck back onto Nick's fingers. The sheets were cool against the side of his face as Nick leaned down and captured his lips in a heated kiss. Mark panted against Nick's mouth as he rocked himself onto his fingers, feeling his cock drag against the sheets.

"Another." he begged, and Nick obeyed immediately not even stopping his thrusts this time when he added another finger. This time the burn really did hurt and he cried out sharply at the flare of pain. Nick's fingers slowed their pace again at his distress but after a moment, even though the stretch still burned, Mark rocked forward until just Nick's fingertips were pressed inside of him.

"Don't stop. God, don't stop." he whimpered, sliding back onto the slipper digits, and digging his fingers into the sheets as Nick started fucking his fingers into him again. He moaned against Nick's lips as they pressed against his, tongues thrusting lazily together. After a few minutes the burning ache disappeared and he started rocking back harder. Fuck, he still wanted more.

" More. Fuck, give me more, Nick." And Mark knew there was only one option for "more", and he knew Nick knew that, too. The thrusts slowed and became shallower and Mark growled in frustration and fucked himself back onto Nick's still hand.

"You're sure?"

Nick's tone was so concerned, so gentle and patient that if Mark had truly still had any doubts left they would have been washed them like the ocean tide rolling over something written into the sand.

"Yes, god, please." Mark panted breathlessly, pushing himself back harder and arching up to get that incredible brush over his prostate, "I need more. I need _you_."

To emphasize his point, he shifted a bit as Nick's fingers started to thrust lazily into him again and fumbled with the drawer handle on the nightstand. He moaned as Nick's fingers brushed his prostate and his hips twitched causing the fingers to crook more against it. Blindly, he dug his hand into the drawer until he found the little box. He grabbed the bottle of lube off of the nightstand where Nick had left it and slid them across the bed under him, turning his torso just enough to face Nick better. He pulled one of the condoms out and tried to tear it open but his fingers were shaking too much between his nerves and the ecstasy shooting up his spine and down to his toes as Nick's fingers moved inside of him.

After a steadying breath he managed to rip the wrapper open under Nick's dark, hungry gaze. With trembling fingers he rolled it down onto Nick's thick cock making the other boy moan and buck into his hand. As Nick pulled his fingers out, Mark gasped longingly as the empty ache filled him, his muscles clenching around air in their need to be keep being stretched. He pulled the bottle of lube from Mark's hands and squirted some onto his palm before stroking over his erection and shifting down the bed behind Mark.

Mark pulled his lower body up another few inches, keeping his legs spread wide as Nick rubbed more lube over him. Arching back against the touch he was craving he felt some of it drip down onto his balls and thighs. Then the hard, blunt tip of Nick's cock slipped over his stretched hole and he rocked back begging Nick to just fuck him already; to fill him and stretch him and make him scream.

His tip nudged against Mark's entrance and pressed gently against it for a moment before Nick sunk in slowly until he was completely buried in Mark's tight, wet heat. Mark cried out at the fullness of him, at the burn that was settling around his ass as he tightened his muscles around Nick's girth.

Above him, Nick gave a moan of appreciation at the squeeze, his hands rubbing over the curve of his ass as he adjusted to the painful stretch. His chest was heaving as some of the burn started to fade into his haze of pleasure.

"Move," he whispered against the sheets, pressing his forehead against them, "Please, move."

He still wasn't sure if he'd adjusted completely to having Nick inside of him, but god, he just needed him to move, to press against all the right places inside of him and make the pain fade away as the pleasure rushed through him. Nick pulled back slowly, his hands gripping tightly onto Mark's hips, until only the head of his cock was still pressed inside. Mark whimpered as the terrible empty ache started again but then Nick snapped his hips forward and buried himself even deeper than before. He could feel Nick's balls pressing against him as Nick grinded into him while he was still buried inside of him.

"Fuck, you're so tight, Mark." he groaned, gasping sharply and shifting his hips just a bit to change the angle.

Mark moaned deeply at the sudden pressure on his prostate and rocked back against Nick, urging him to keep going. Nick took the hint and started thrusting into him, slow but hard enough to jar him up the bed a few more inches. A deep moan was torn from his throat as Nick's hips started snapping into him, his hip bones slamming against his ass hard enough to bruise as the wet sound of their flesh slapping together echoed around the room. Every thrust knocked the breath out of him as Nick's cock slide over his prostate. He was gasping and moaning and rocking his hips back hard to meet Nick's deep thrusts as Nick slammed forward into him, adding his own loud moans to the symphony.

He knew he wasn't going to last, between the friction of the bed against his cock, the way Nick's cock was gliding into him so perfectly and his hands were digging into his ass cheeks as he arched up towards Nick.

"God, you love this, don't you, baby?" Nick groaned, curling himself over Mark, who was crying out with the ferocity of Nick's hips slapping against his ass. He could feel his ass shake as Nick's hips pounded against him; could feel Nick's heavy ball sack knock against his own. He could only moan brokenly in response. It felt beyond amazing or incredible or anything Mark had ever imagined and he just wanted Nick to keep jerking his hips forward at his fast pace and slamming into his prostate until he was literally howling.

But that wasn't the answer Nick wanted. One of the hands tugging on his ass cheek, pulled away and then came back down hard as Nick paused in his thrusts. The sharp sting of the slap made Mark yelp and arch his ass up as his muscles clenched around Nick. Holy _fuck_, why did that feel so good? The sting had sent a ripple of pleasure straight to his hole and around to the length his cock still pinned against the bed. He could already feel the familiar heat coiling through his balls and into the rest of his body.

Nick moaned loudly, and thrust into him shallowly at the sudden contraction around himself. "Fuck, you like that, too?"

"Yes." Mark whined, arching himself up, "Don't stop. Just...harder. Fuck me _harder. _Spank me _harder._"

The other hand slapped down against his ass as Nick renewed his thrusts, pressing his palms into the mattress around Mark's chest for better leverage and pounding down into him as he tightened up from the stinging slap and arched his ass higher against Nick. He wasn't even rocking back into Nick's thrusts anymore, just letting Nick thrust down into his heat as another hand smacked across his cheeks.

This time he yelled in euphoria, Nick's cock pressing into his prostate as he tightened again and his toes curled. Pleasure was rushing through his limbs, making his fingers dig into the sheets and his spine arch, raising his ass even higher. Every slap and hot drag against his prostate was shooting through him, tangling itself around his cock and coiling in the pulsing heat in his stomach.

"Fuck, Mark." Nick moaned, pressing his sweaty forehead against Mark's back, "I'm close–so close..."

His thrusts quicken as another hand descended against Mark's ass.

"Nick!" he shouted, the familiar tightening in his balls and stomach starting, "Fuck, harder!"

Another slap stung against his ass and his whole body tightened, all of his muscles seizing up as the heat snapped and spiraled through him as he came, crying out and tightening around Nick's cock. He could feel his cock twitching against the bed, feel the wet, sticky heat of his come shooting up over his contracting stomach muscles and dripping onto the sheets below him. The orgasm kept rushing over him, waves of heat growing stronger, making his muscles contract tighter and tighter around Nick and the edges of his vision fuzzy. With a final hard thrust, Nick's body tense up as he buries himself fully, his arms giving out as he moaned Mark's name over and over, his cock throbbing inside of him as he came.

Panting and breathless, Mark sunk into the creaky mattress as Nick's sweaty body pressed down on him. They laid like that for a few moments, catching their breath from the incredible rush they'd just shared. Chest still heaving, Nick raising himself up a bit and pulled his hips back enough to slip out of Mark. The burning ache from earlier returned as Nick rolled off of him and he hissed at the uncomfortable swollen feeling between his ass cheeks. Something wet slapped against the trash bin–the condom, he thought– and then Nick's hand is forcing him to roll on to his back. As his ass took on some of his weight he whined loudly, because even his ass cheeks hurt though he knew that was from the spanking. Jesus fuck, he'd enjoyed those slaps even if his ass was going to throb and twinge for days.

A soft kiss swept across his lips and then Nick nuzzled his nose against Mark's, caressing a callused hand soothing along Mark's side.

"Are you okay?"

The concern more than anything made Mark's heart start pounding a little faster again. How sweet Nick was in that moment was something Mark knew he would never, ever forget. Not even when he was a humpbacked, liver-spotted ninety year old man with the worse case of Alzheimer's would he ever forget the happy sparkle in those hazel-green eyes, or the love swelling in his own heart.

"I'm a thousand light years beyond okay." he said softly, brushing a stray curl off of Nick's sweaty forehead. And he wanted nothing more than to tell Nick that he loved him; was completely, irrevocably head over heels in love with him. But he knew he couldn't. He'd rather pretend there was nothing there and still have Nick than admit what he knew they both felt and risk losing Nick forever.

He yawned as his eyes lids began to droop, and curled onto his side, feeling Nick curl up behind him, pressing close as his arm twisted around him. A soft nuzzle against his hair made him hum softly and close his eyes, relaxing back against Nick's chest as they fell asleep. They were wound tightly around each other when Nick woke up the next morning. It was a bizarre feeling for him, finding himself in a tangle of soft limbs, exchanging body heat where their skin was sealed together alongside his entire front body and he could feel every inch pressed flush against Mark's back from tip to toe. Mark had rolled into him in the night, snuggling deeper into his arms, his shoulder blades pressed against Nick's chest and his head tilted to the side to brush against Nick's curls. Sighing softly, Nick tucked his chin deeper into Mark's shoulder and nuzzled against his neck. His eyes drifted to where their fingers were laced together and pressed against Mark's chest. He wasn't sure when that had happened or even when they'd curled the blankets around themselves last night, but he tightened his grip and brushed his thumb over the back of Mark's, feeling the other boy's pulsing, steady heart beat against his wrist. Quite honestly, he'd never been more relaxed or at peace or just–and it felt odd to even think it–happy.

Happiness was something he wasn't accustomed to anymore, at least not to this degree. Not when it made his breath catch, and his heart flutter and his whole chest just _ache_ because of the things that wanted to burst out of him. Even last night was unprecedented for him. Every other sexual encounter for him had always been impersonal and rushed. "Get naked, get off, get the hell out" had become a mantra dictating his actions from the depths of his subconscious during his time at Dalton. But this... _this_ was something entirely new. Something he'd never expected to want to happen every night and morning for the rest of his life. And the most surprising aspect of this was the fact that he didn't even mind feeling this way.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes again, breathing in Mark's scent. Vanilla and jasmine and _sex_. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pressed his lips against the soft skin of Mark's neck. The boy shifted in his arms and mumbled incoherently, shrugging up his shoulders at the tickling brush of Nick's lips. Mark wiggled against him and Nick tightened his arm, holding him close as a little joyful laugh bubbled up out of Mark.

"Good morning," he mumbled against Mark's neck, planting another soft kiss on it.

Mark sighed contentedly and turned his head to look at Nick with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face.

"Hi" Mark said softly, his eyes sleepy but bright. Mark rolled over to face Nick fully and brought their linked hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss onto the knuckles of Nick's index finger.

Something tight and hot constricted in Nick's throat as Mark's gaze settled on him. There was a wonder and warmth there that Nick could not remember ever having had directed at him before. He felt like his ribcage was trying and failing at containing a nuclear explosion. He'd never seen anyone as beautiful as the boy nestled in his arms. All he wanted to do was kiss him and hold him and touch him and pleasure him until they could both no longer move with exhaustion. To spend every waking moment ensuring that that blissful smile never flickered from Mark's face and–

And, god, this was love, wasn't it?

Love that was the jubilant crescendo resting in his chest, tugging at his lips, turning his stomach into an Olympic gymnast and making his touches, which he knew were usually rough, gentle and caring. A hand brushed at his curls and what seemed to be from a great distance he heard Mark's voice penetrate his thoughts.

"Nick? Why are you- is there- is there something on my face?"

Mark's warm hand slipped out of his and reached up to self-consciously touch his cheek. He caught it and pulled it back into his own, watching their fingers lace together.

"No," he breathed, "there's nothing wrong with your face. Can't I just stare at the beautiful boy in my arms?" Nick lamented whilst continuing to smile at Mark and never taking his eyes off him.

Mark's eyes fell to their interlocked hands and somehow his smile got even bigger.

"Yes. Yes, you can."

His stomach swooped as Mark leaned into him and kissed him softly.

_Fuck,_ he was in love. He was in love and didn't want it to end; didn't want to ever leave his place in Mark's strong arms.

But _fuck,_ what the hell was he going to do?

He'd loved his mother more than anything else in the world and look where that had gotten him. She'd gone off and killed herself when all of those medications had driven her mad, leaving him to find her broken body when he got home from school.

He'd loved his father, too. At least until he'd shut himself down, remarried barely three months later, and refused to look at him or his face for years.

The nagging made itself known again. He couldn't let this happen; couldn't let himself continue to encourage the wonderful, giddy feeling tickling his insides. It was nice, but it wouldn't last. It never did. But maybe... maybe he could just let himself enjoy it for a little while longer. He deserved that. He did! It _was_ insanely cold in his room after all, and Mark was so soft and warm and _real _in his arms. Was it so wrong to feel reluctant to pull himself away from that?

His hand trailed down to the base of Mark's spine as their kisses grew more intense, finally settling on Mark's ass. A rush of air hissed past Mark's lips at the touch.

"Shit, sorry" Nick apologized, pulling away to see the grimace on Mark's face. God, he'd been way too rough last night. The fact that he was even thinking this was really saying something, since last night was probably the gentlest he'd _ever_ been. Even when he'd topped virgins he'd never really cared once his cock was in the other guy's ass. He'd always been merciless with the spanking as well because it only made them clamp even tighter around him. The last glimpse he'd had of his last fuck had been a swollen ass covered in angry purple blotches in the exact shape of his hands. It had never mattered to him if they'd had to limp or even crawl from his dormitory room. But with Mark...

With Mark everything was different.

"I- I was too rough," he stuttered rolling on to his back as the guilt clawed at his insides. "I shouldn't have spanked you like that or – or –"

His babbling was cut off with a searing kiss. He moaned against Mark's mouth, because fuck, even those few moments of kissing had turned him on and sent a fair percentage of his blood rushing south. Mark pressed down on top of him, his legs tangling together with Nick's.

"I liked it, Nick," he said shyly, pressing his lips to Nick's jaw, the top of his cheeks turning pink, "I mean it- it wasn't at all I imagined my first time to be like and if you'd asked before you – before you did that..." Mark trailed off and looked away, biting his lower lip.

Nick knew what it was that Mark hadn't finished saying. If he'd asked to spank him, Mark would have said no. Guilt twisted in his gut again.

"It felt incredible, though," Mark whispered, and when Nick turned his eyes back to Mark, he found himself under a trusting gaze. "I don't think I'd want it to happen _every time-_" Nick's heart leapt at his words. He didn't want to just leave it as a onetime thing either. "call me k- kinky, but I loved it."

Nodding, Nick pulled him down for another kiss, and Mark melted against him. Mark only parted their lips for a few shaky words.

"I want to – can we – not the spanking but... can we do it again?"

Nick groaned when Mark slanted his lips over his without waiting for an answer. He was already ridiculously half- hard and horny. He blamed his sixteen – no, seventeen year-old, he corrected – hormone- driven brain for the almost constant hard- on he had around Mark. One that was getting rapidly harder as Mark's legs slid around him, knees pushing into the mattress until he was spread wide in Nick's lap. As he felt Mark's cock lengthening and jutting into his stomach he trailed a probing hand down to the crease of Mark's ass. Just a little brush over the slightly wet, raw and swollen Samered hole had Mark jolting away from Nick's lips until he was sitting up in his lap. The added pressure against his cock did nothing to help him as he tried to rein in his desire.

"You're too sore, baby," he told him, sitting up and brushing back the hairs dangling into Mark's face. He was both impressed and astonished at his own words. He'd never turned down an offer for sex before.

In response Mark ground down against him and wrapped his arms around his neck. Nick's breath hitched as Mark's lips dragged over his.

"No, I can- I can take it. I want you inside me, Nick." He rolled his ass down against Nick's throbbing cock and they both moaned loudly.

There was really no way he could say no to that. Not when Mark was looking at him with those passionate eyes, and rolling his ass against Nick's erection and consequently rubbing his own hard- on against Nick's stomach.

As Nick fumbled for the condoms and lube still on the night-stand, Mark attached his mouth to his neck, biting and sucking wetly. He pressed his hips up as much as he could with all of Mark's weight on them, knocking a small gasp from Mark's mouth.

"If it's too much just tell me... " he whispered as he popped the lid on the lube and started to coat his fingers.

Mark's chest rumbled against him as he slid his slick fingers down to Mark's swollen hole. A breathless moan tickled his ear as Mark arched back against his touch and slid onto two of his fingers. His own breath caught at how easily they slipped in and out as Mark started raising his hips to ride them. His cock twitched painfully at the sight of Mark rising and falling at a steady pace in his lap; at the way his mouth was parted slightly and his head was thrown back in rapture. In a few minutes Mark would be riding _him_ like that.

_Jesus, fuck._

"More, Nick," Mark panted, pushing himself back harder onto Nick's fingers. As he lowered himself back down Nick added a third and crooked his fingers against his prostate. Mark cried out, whether at the slightly painfully stretch or at the pleasure, Nick didn't know. He couldn't really think of anything except how gorgeous Mark was when his pupils were lust-blown and there was a light sheen of sweat starting to pop up over his skin. A moment later, Mark was fucking himself back even harder onto his fingers and god, he didn't think he could wait any longer. He needed that tight squeeze around himself; the delicious drag of increasing and decreasing pressure as he slid in and out.

After a few more thrusts Mark stilled on his fingers, breathing heavy and squirming a bit. Unlike last night he didn't fumble as he tore the condom wrapper open and rolled it down Nick's cock. He didn't let Nick remove his fingers to lube himself up either. A loud whine gasped out of Mark's throat when he started to pull his fingers out. Surprised, Nick stopped as Mark's hand latched onto his arm and held it steady as he pushed himself back down until his fingers were buried to the knuckle again.

Groaning, Nick dropped his forehead to Mark's shoulder and watched the pale hands disappear from between their bodies. He was just getting control of his breathing when the hands reappeared, slick and shiny with lube. They grasped him firmly, twisting and stroking as he moaned and thrust up into the fists.

"Now, baby. Please," Mark pleaded, raising himself off of Nick's fingers and wrapping his arms around Nick's neck.

Nick didn't need to be told tw s he sucked roughly at Mark's neck. Hand still slick with lube, he lined himself up against Mark's entrance, the blunt tip rubbing over his slick hole. Before he could even thrust up, Mark sunk down onto him, biting down on his shoulder, his moan vibrating through Nick's flesh. He moaned, too, because, god, Mark was still so fucking tight.

He grabbed Mark's hips hard as the boy started to rock slowly in his lap and tugged him down a few more inches to completely bury himself in his wet heat. Mark gasped as his ass settled against the top of Nick's thighs and the way he clenched around his cock told Nick he'd just brushed against the other boy's prostate.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered breathlessly against Mark's lips before he captured them with his own. His tongue darted out and traced over Mark's lips as Mark started rocking in his lap again, rising and falling on his cock.

Tilting his hips up more he thrust up to match Mark's movements and hit home. Mark screamed and started moving faster in his lap.

"Nick, oh god. Right there- right _there!_" Mark begged as Nick's hands clutched onto his ass cheeks and started helping Mark ride him harder. Mark's head snapped back as he sunk down onto him and yelled again.

God, he never wanted Mark to stop making that sound. Or to stop gliding up and down his cock. Mark's back arched until his chest was pressed flush against his own, his head thrown back and a cry clawed out of his throat every time Nick's cock filled him up. Sweat was beading across the column of Mark's neck and Nick tilted his head forward, to press his tongue against it and mouth over his throat. A sharp, breathless gasp vibrated against his tongue and Mark's arms clung tighter around his neck as Mark shifted his thighs a bit to get better leverage. He could only imagine how much Mark's toned thighs were burning but he could see Mark didn't want to stop – couldn't stop – even if it hurt.

A deep moan broke past his lips as Mark started gyrating his hips faster, rolling them as his ass smacked down against Nick's lap. He could feel Mark's cock, slick with pre-cum, pressing against his stomach, feel his nails cutting into his shoulders as they thrust against each other, their moans increasing in volume as the heat started to electrocute the nerve endings all over his body.

"Fuck, _Mark,_" he moaned desperately. He was going to come so hard from this. He'd never been more turned on than he was right now; had never felt this kind of incredible, intimate pleasure except with Mark.

"Nick... _Nick, _god, you- you feel so _good_" Mark panted, pressing his face against Nick's cheek and sucking onto his earlobe.

A whimper broke through his lips and he jerked his hips up harder against Mark's riding gallop. Nick could feel the way Mark's muscles were starting to tremble and clench around his cock that was so hard it actually hurt, the way Mark was starting to shudder against him. He could tell Mark was just as close as him. He wound his arms tightly around Mark's waist as they slapped wetly together, panting and moaning and dipped his head to capture a taut, rosy nipple between his teeth–

"_Nick! Holy fuck!"_

His own mind went numb and his balls tightened as Mark's muscles clamped around him. Warm come was splattering onto his stomach as the euphoria wound up in him. Mark thrashed against him, lost in his own cries of pleasure as the heat coiling up in his stomach shattered.

"Mark... Mark!" he gasped against the boy's heaving chest, his eyes rolling back into his head as his toes curled and he stopped breathing. Mark had stopped moving in his lap while he was coming. Trembling, Nick sunk back into his pillows, arms still wrapped tightly around Mark, pulling him down on top of him.

He traced his hand up Mark's sweaty back to his hair, brushing his hands through it slowly and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Mark slunk up his chest, slipping off of his cock and breathing heavily against his neck. He tugged the condom off of himself, tied it off, and slung it in the direction of the trash bin.

Whether or not it actually made it that distance was of little concern to him at the moment.

"I'm not going to be able to walk for a week!" Mark mumbled absentmindedly, dragging his fingertips across the planes of Nick's chest.

Nick laughed softly, still slightly breathless, his lips still pressed against Mark's forehead as he replied "This was your idea, Sheme. It's your own fault you let me fuck you raw."

Mark hummed against his pectoral and slid to the side to tuck himself against Nick's side. Nick's arm tightened around Mark's chest as he sighed dreamily and let his eyes drift shut. He was always so sleepy after an orgasm. The only thing he wanted right now was to stay in this moment. To never let Mark go... to let himself love Mark.

If this was love... if he was actually falling in love... he might just be able to get used to this feeling; the warmth that spread through him and the way his heart swelled when Mark was smiling at him like he was right now. He didn't need to feel this way... but he wanted to.

"Oh, no. No sleeping, Atkinson. We've got school, remember?"

"We've got time" Nick grumbled sleepily, cracking an eyelid and glancing at his alarm clock. The screen was dark. He reached up and fumbled with the lamp switch for a moment but nothing happened.

"Shit. The power shorted again last night."

"Oh my god. We're probably already late and going to be in so much trouble–"

Mark was already sitting up, wincing as the shift made him ache more, but with a swift grab Nick tugged him back down into his arms.

"Shut up, Sheme. It doesn't even look that bright out yet. We've got time," he reiterated, snuggling against Mark as dim, gray light filtered through around the edges of the curtains.

He watched Mark's eyes drift over to the window as well and felt him relax back down into his arms.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

A bony chin dug into his chest and he glanced down to find Mark staring directly at him, a bright smile stretched across his face. Despite everything he'd promised himself years ago, he smiled back and brushed the hairs off of Mark's forehead again. They fell back into his eyes and Mark giggled, his breath ghosting over his chest.

"You never did tell me how your job interview went yesterday."

The happiness inside of him burst like a soap bubble at Mark's words.

Laughing derisively, he arched his back and stretched a little bit as he avoided making eye contact.

"It went exactly as I told you it would."

Mark shifted up his chest, smile faltering at the dark look creeping back over his features.

"You- you didn't get it?" Mark mumbled softly against Nick's skin, tracing a random pattern across his chest with his fingertips.

"Didn't even get the interview" Nick clarified, staring fixedly at the ceiling. This was the part he hated most about being around Mark. The terrible need Mark had to talk about everything and how Mark wanted to know all these things about him and how thrown off balance he was when none of it even fazed Mark. He just accepted all there was too him and then some and it just blew his mind.

"But weren't you there _for_ an interview?"

Nick chuckled darkly as he nodded in agreement and untangled his foot from the blankets, shaking his ankle monitor so that the cold metal slid up and down his calf a few inches.

"As soon as they caught sight of this–" he rattled the ankle monitor again, then tucked it back under the blanket with Mark's feet, "it was, 'We'll call you, Mr. Atkinson'. Same thing I always hear," he grumbled. "Never call back for shit, of course."

"But that's just so- so- so-"

"Typical? Predictable?" Nick supplied dryly. He could feel Mark's sad gaze lingering on him, but he ignored it. That was another thing he hated about being around Mark: how bad his life made Mark feel and how bad Mark's sadness made _him_ feel as a result.

Before Mark could reply, Nick's mouth was jabbering away on its own accord with thoughts that he'd never voiced to anyone before. He'd never had anyone to share them with, though. It was another strange feeling for Nick and it just made him more nervous about what Mark really meant to him.

"As soon as they see it or check my records, every hope, every expectation they have gets flushed down the drain," Nick said quietly, "They _know_ I'm just a fuck up. Why should I waste my time and energy proving them wrong, when it's so easy to show them that they're right?"

For a moment it was silent and he hoped maybe, just maybe, Mark would leave it at that. But whenever they got onto topics like this, Nick knew that hope was just wishful thinking.

"Because you aren't a fuck up. You're so much... so much better than that – than them."

"My criminal record would slaughter you in court over that," Nick said snidely as he shifted away from Mark's warmth.

But Mark's grip tightened and against his better judgement he allowed himself to be pulled back into his embrace.

"You _are, _Nick. Even if you don't realize it yet."

The soft certainty in Mark's words brought that ache back to Nick's chest. He couldn't remember anyone having _ever _had any faith in him. His mother perhaps, but the only memories he had with her were his fifth and sixth birthdays, a vaguely hazy piano lesson, and walking into his parents' room after getting off the bus to find her dead on the floor.

It felt like something liquid hot was trickling down Nick's throat as Mark snuggled deeper into his side. There was so much Mark didn't know – so much _nobody _knew about him. He hated himself for wanting to tell Mark. Nick noticed that he seemed to hate a lot that he was actually grateful for, as little as he liked to admit it to himself. But Mark gave him a little nudge with his next question and Nick knew it was the best opener he was going to get.

"Why are you even looking for a job?" Mark asked hesitantly, "It just seems so... responsible for you."

"I- " he stuttered to a halt for a moment, trying to decide if this was a good idea and if so, where to even begin. There was no turning back after this...

Mark was gazing up at Nick hopefully as he traced his fingers over the little dark hairs starting to grow on Nick's chest. He deserved to know, Nick told himself. He was giving Nick so much trust and support, and was actually believing in him. Mark deserved to know him, Nick decided. Even if it was only a glimpse into Nick's past.

"I was in juvie when my father died," Nick started. He fixed his eyes on a crack in the ceiling and focused his hearing on the rain he could hear pattering against the window. The more he could distance himself from the story he was telling, the easier it would be to tell it. "It was a month before I turned fifteen; about three after I got locked up, I think. He- " Nick paused again. Mark's grip had tightened around him in a way he figured should have been comforting. The added pressure only pulled him back into the reality of his own words and it was the last place Nick wanted his head to be in right now. "He liked to drink a lot after- after my mother died. Forced my stepmother to go driving with him one night. Wrapped his fucking car around a tree and killed them both. His father, my grandfather, got custody of me after that."

Mark had stiffened in his arms as he talked, but remained silent. A warm palm caressed Nick's side, rubbing soothingly against his ribs. Nick swallowed thickly and blinked a few times, trying to ignore the way those hands made the hot pressure build behind his eyes.

"He's the reason I got out of juvie and went to Dalton. Dalton's, like, the prep school for delinquents. If you've caused a shit load of trouble and you've got rich parents, that's where you go instead of juvie," he explained, following the pattern of cracks on the ceiling as he talked and tried his best to zone out. "My dad sort of lost his mind not long after my mom died. Started drinking, got remarried to some stupid bitch he knocked up while he was drunk, lost his job. My grandfather cut him off after that. He didn't want anything to do with a son who was a failure. He was never good enough for him, always a huge disappointment to the great Cameron Atkinson. Wasn't smart or ambitious enough. Couldn't live up to my grandfather's expectations. At least until he got married and had me.

"I had the potential to be what he always wanted my father to be. Once my parents died and he had custody..." Nick shrugged roughly, trying to squirm out of Mark's tight clutches. The grip loosened but it was still strong, still holding Nick down in his own words. "He's a big defense attorney. Ranked in the top ten in the country. He blamed my dad for all the trouble I got into because I was 'too smart and headstrong for a moron like him to control.' So he shipped me off to Dalton so I could get my act together and get into Yale like he did and become a lawyer."

"You want to be a lawyer?" Mark interrupted, sounding surprised. Nick laughed humourlessly but took the opening in order to get his own emotions under control. He couldn't let the past get to him like this. It was over and didn't matter anymore.

"Fuck, no. God, can you imagine me in a stiff three-piece suit?" Nick replied mirthlessly.

The cheek pressed against Nick's chest flared with a sudden warmth as Mark's voice, soft and small, mumbled against his skin, "I think you'd look quite handsome. Very dapper if it was done right. You'd kill in a courtroom with a finely tailored suit."

"Maybe," he decided, "it doesn't matter. He doesn't want anything to do with me now either."

Mark sat up slowly and the sudden rush of cool air over Nick's skin made him flinch. He sat up, too, taking in the perplexed expression wrinkling Mark's forehead.

"But... you said – I thought – isn't he helping you pay for- for _this_?" Mark flapped his hand around at the dingy little apartment. Dropping his gaze to the blanket, Nick yanked mindlessly at one of its broken threads, realizing that Mark had gotten the wrong idea about all the vague things he'd said in recent weeks.

"Technically, it's his money," Nick said tonelessly. "When I got tossed out of Dalton... I got caught organizing a sex party, basically. They're all a bunch of horny fucks and I knew how to get in and out of campus without getting caught to smuggle girls in for them. The administration told him they'd caught me and another guy fucking and gave him until the end of the semester to find a new school for me."

Mark stiffened a little and Nick cringed as he realized what he'd just said. He continued talking in a rush in an attempt to cover it up and pretend he hadn't just said what he did or the fact that he even cared.

"When he came to pick me and my stuff up at the end of May, he drove me here." A pleased chuckle slipped past Nick's lips at the thought of trying to find a school in Ohio that he hadn't already been expelled from. He could probably count them on one hand. "He did find me Sanibel. But once we got here he tossed my stuff onto the curb in front of the door and handed me a debit card for an account he'd set up."

His fingers trembled at the memory and Mark's hand latched onto his, steadying it as it froze on top of the blanket. Nick took a deep breath before he finished. Why had he even bothered trying to zone out while he was telling this? With Mark next to him he couldn't help but be anything but emotionless.

"Those assholes from last night were out drinking on the curb next to us. They like to harass the girl in the end apartment," he continued, turning his gaze to the far wall instead of to Mark's heart-broken face. "He told me he'd put ten thousand dollars in the account and it was mine if I never contacted him or Lily again."

"Lily?" Mark's voice was curious as he repeated the name. Nick felt their fingers lace together as Mark shifted closer to him on the bed.

Nick cleared his throat roughly before answering. "My half-sister," he clarified. "He told me I was never to show my worthless, faggot face anywhere near either of them again." Mark gripped onto Nick and he looked at his face fleetingly to see anger bubbling up and darken Mark's eyes as they fixed on a spot across from them. His heart started beating rapidly in response, reacting to Mark's anger with his own. The up and downs of emotion that Mark was transferring onto Nick was exhausting. He pulled his eyes away again and continued taking through his teeth. "Then he left. Those guys beat the shit out of me when I tried to get into my room since they'd heard him call me a fag. They haven't left me alone since."

"Nick... "

"Rent and bills here are five hundred a month. If by some miracle I don't get expelled and locked up again, that alone will set me back twelve thousand for the two years I've got left of school. Then there's food and clothes and bathroom shit and whatever else I need..."

Mark's hand reached up to stroke Nick's cheek gently and he flinched under the touch. God, he hated feeling like this. Nick had always done everything in his power to prevent himself from feeling this way. But then there was Mark, and somehow, although he still hated it, it seemed worth it to feel this way. Warm lips pressed against Nick's other cheek as Mark's arms wrapped around him. A few hot tears trickled down his neck. Mark was crying because of what he'd told him – because of him. Nick's heart wrenched in his chest at the thought.

"Shit, don't – don't cry, baby," Nick whispered, wrapping the boy up in his arms. "It's just a bunch of stupid shit... it doesn't matter anymore."

"I wish you wouldn't say that," Mark sniffled against his neck. "It's important to me b- b- because _you're_ important to me, Nick."

He froze at Mark's words. Sure, Nick knew it was true on some level and had known at least all morning, had known that even if he continued to deny it for the rest of his life that they weren't just fuck buddies or 'friends with benefits' or any other stupid label he may come up with. There was something happening between them that he couldn't even begin to fully understand. The only thing Nick knew was that he wasn't ready for it. The same way he hadn't been ready to become an orphan at fourteen and then again at sixteen. But nothing had stopped that from happening.

"I... I- I care for you, too, Mark," Nick mumbled awkwardly. He could feel a bit of a blush rising in his cheeks and, fuck, he hated feeling bashful and flustered and just stupid. He hated a lot of things around Mark, Nick noticed. But he always hated a lot of things and the truth was that he didn't actually _care_ about hating anything around Mark. "You... you make me – make me feel things that I can't even begin to wrap my mind around, you know that?"

But then Mark pulled away enough for them to look each other in the eyes. Bright blue eyes that sparkled like galaxies were staring at him and for once Nick _knew_ he'd done something right.

Maybe he _was_ in love, Nick pondered as Mark pulled him in for a tender kiss. Maybe his brain was just a little loopy from the most mind-blowing orgasms he'd ever experienced. What the hell did he know about anything when Mark's lips were sealed against his own?

He smiled into the kiss regardless, and pulled Mark down with him as he tumbled back into his pillows. Neither of them heard the palm slap against the door, nor did they hear it creak open from the hit. When Carole went to bed at one o'clock in the morning and still hadn't received an answer to her texts, she was certainly worried, but not terribly surprised. Mark was with _Nick_, and while she didn't know the boy particularly well, she knew the thrills of young, first love. Just those few moments at the Shemes' house on Wednesday morning had told her everything she needed to know about Mark and Nick's relationship. Even if they would both deny it endlessly, that tender moment at the top of stairs had been between two boys who were hopelessly, dizzyingly in love with each other.

However, when Carole woke up at seven to force Jake awake and still hadn't received a response to her queries about Mark's well-being she went from worried to nervous. Shortly after, Carole headed to the Sheme residence from her own home to see if Mark and Nick were there like they had been the other day, but found the empty house untouched. A quick check of Mark's clothes hamper told Carole he hadn't come back to change, and Mark never wore the same outfit two days in a row. At the discovery, Carole started toeing the line into frantic. She was almost out of the door, stumbling in heels that were too tall and skinny for her comfort, and scrolling through her contacts list for Mark's number when the house phone rang behind her.

Carol stumbled back through the house and grappled for the phone, knocking over the spice rack in her urgency. An automated message from the Sanibel High attendance office droned through the line and Carole leapt across the line separating frantic and borderline panic. Mark had told Carole enough about the area that Nick lived in for her to realize it was not exactly the place where two boys in love with each other should ever be. Something may have even happened _before_ Mark had gotten to Nick's last night.

But, no, she would have known by now. Carole took a deep, steadying breath and reminded herself of the facts. She worked at the hospital. All of her co-workers _knew _who Mark was and someone would have phoned her to tell her if he'd been brought in late last night. There were only two logical answers to Mark's whereabouts: he was still at Nick's (and she could imagine why) or he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere and hadn't been found yet.

Neither thought was particularly comforting. They definitely didn't stop Carole from continuing on in her flustered state of panic as she made a quick trip down to Mark's room for a clean outfit before racing back upstairs. Heart hammering, Carole floundered down the front steps, nearly twisting her ankle when her stupid heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and hopped into her car. She really should have gone with on the tennis shoes instead.

Speed limit signs were ignored as Carole rushed across town, passing from the well-kept and manicured lawns of Mark's neighborhood, past the middle-class ground of Sanibel and Lima Heights, and into the trailer parks, rundown motels, and apartment complexes near the address Carole had been given as she searched for a street sign labeled "Thomas". Carole swerved across the intersection when she finally spotted it, jerking the steering wheel hard to the left. A brief memory of Jake's first driving lesson popped into her head and she corrected her steering. Carole always told her son to never, _ever_ drive like a reckless maniac. To never drive the way she was driving herself right now. Both Niall and Mark would be furious with her if they knew. But her boys didn't need to know what a bad example she was being right now and she definitely wasn't going to tell them.

Another hard turn into the rainy, cracked, half-flooded parking lot of Forestwood Apartments and Carole was out of the car and sloshing as fast so she could in her heels towards the door of Nick's apartment.

A slippery combination of broken glass, rain-soaked pavement, and a new pair of heels that Mark had bought Carole tripped her up and launched her face first into the door of apartment 5C. Her hand smacked against the door as she skidded forward, and instinctively she pushed against it to catch herself, expecting it to support her weight.

It didn't.

The door popped open and she stumbled inside, dripping water all over the carpet and getting her umbrella trapped in the doorway.

God, Carole didn't care if Mark was in love with this boy. She was going to murder them _both_ for not even bothering to text or call her last night and then, on top of everything, not showing up to school this morning.

Steadying herself and brushing her damp curls off her face, Carole looked up only to find Mark and Nick tangled around each other and, as far as she could tell, very naked.

"Oh my god!"

Carole's voice wasn't the only one screeching. Mark's face was flooding a dark red as he tried to untangle the heap of blankets twisted around their bodies. With a good tug he freed them and drew the blanket up to his chin, looking mortified. Nick, on the other hand, hadn't moved since he'd twisted his torso around to stare at the door. His bare ass was very much on display as he eyed Carole up and down. Every angry speech and lecture Carole had planned out in her head evaporated.

"Your timing is once again impeccable," Nick said flatly as he eyed the water sliding off of her coat and dripping onto the carpet. "Do you have a micro-chip under his skin that you use to track him? 'Cause I definitely didn't feel one last night, and my examination was _extremely_ thorough."

A dirty smirk peeled back Nick's lips as Carole clamped a hand over her eyes. She heard Mark's hand smack against Nick and a soft "Ouch" before she shuffled back towards the door.

"I- I brought you a change of clothes. They're in the – in the car," Carole said faintly, dropping her hand to see where she was walking. She kept her eyes trained on the floor as she backed out, trying not to listen to the boys shuffling around on the bed. Carole noticed there were an obscene amount of stains on the carpet as she tried to focus on anything that wasn't Mark or Nick. A sharp prod in the middle of Carole's back made her jump and spin around. The umbrella was still lodged in the doorway. She'd completely forgotten about it.

"I'll just... um, let you two– let you g- get dressed while I g- go get it," Carole stuttered. She couldn't remember ever being more embarrassed, which was saying a lot considering she'd been walking in on Jake masturbating every other week for almost five years. Her son had never fully grasped the concept of locking his bedroom door, no matter how many times she told him to.

With a quick twist, the umbrella popped free and Carole closed the door softly before trotting over to her car to get Mark's clothes. It was only as she pulled the outfit out that she realized Mark couldn't get dressed until she gave it to him. Still, Carole waited. Huddled under her umbrella next to her open passenger door, she took a quick look around to give the boys a few minutes and to screw her own head back on after the shock.

The little building looked like a good shove would knock it to the ground. Nothing else was in the parking lot except her, her car, and Mark's Navigator. It wasn't hard to figure out why when icy water started lapping at her toes a moment later.

Carole made a move to start walking back towards Nick's apartment and merely wobbled on the spot, her feet cemented to the ground. A quick glance down showed Carole that her heels had sunk into a muddy crack in the pavement and water was slowly creeping in past her toes. "This day couldn't possibly get any worse," Carole thought. With a squelchy wrench she freed one of her heels from the muck. She wobbled precariously again, gripped the car frame with her hands and pressed her freed foot against the bottom of the door frame to give herself some balance and leverage to yank the other heel free.

God, she must look ridiculous, standing on the door frame of her tiny car in a half-flooded parking lot with her umbrella whipping about over her head as the wind howled. At least Carole had found something to occupy a few minutes of her time. She debated for a moment on how to get both Mark's outfit and herself to the safety of the apartment building's crumbling overhang. There was only one solution Carole could think of. She settled down into the passenger seat, settling the umbrella between the car frame and the door and unbuckled her heels before slipping into the dark ankle-high boots she'd brought for Mark to wear.

The boots were at least four sizes too big, but they kept Carole's feet dry and free from muddy traps as she trekked back over to Nick's door. This time she kept a sharp eye on her footing as she approached the apartment. Mark wouldn't take kindly to his boots getting muddy, but there was no way she was face-planting into the door again. Rapping her knuckles loudly on the door, she waited a few seconds before pushing it open a few inches and peering inside.

Nick was now sprawled out on his stomach, cheek pressed into one of the rumpled pillows, soundly asleep. Mark had disappeared, presumably into the bathroom. The blankets were still only draped over the curly-haired boy's legs, but he'd at least (probably at Mark's insistence, Carole thought) put on a pair of boxers. Still, she stood there, rooted to the spot, just taking in the miserable little room Nick had taken to calling home.

The walls were cracked. The floor was stained. The bed didn't even have a _frame._ The blankets and sheets looked scratchy and thin, and the little lamp didn't even have a lamp shade.

"It's funny how you just stand there awkwardly when there's nothing important to walk in on," Nick grumbled against his pillow, and Carole started a bit at the sound of his voice. She could have sworn he'd been asleep. Nick continued talking as she pushed the door open and shuffled inside, watching him shift a bit and blink one of his eyes open. "But when we're busy getting our mack on you come busting in here like a hurricane."

Carole stood on the threshold as Nick nuzzled his face into the pillow and, god, her heart just ached at the sight of the poor boy. Her imagination couldn't even stretch far enough to picture her own son or Mark in his situation. They had and always would have someone to care for them until they were old enough to do it themselves. But Nick had been dumped off to fend for himself in the worst part of Lima. He was all alone in this world except for Mark and he seemed reluctant to even let Mark in. Who would do that to a child - or a grandchild - regardless of the trouble they had caused?

"Shut the damn door," Nick snapped suddenly, grunting as he turned his head away from her and snuggled into the pillow. "Shove the trunk between the dresser and the door, long way."

Carole couldn't even bring herself to scold him for the swear as she stepped fully into the room. However, the added comment puzzled her for a moment, but she did as Nick asked. Once the trunk had slid into place she realized the horror and brilliance of the request. It was his lock – a travesty of a lock to stop people from breaking into his room when he was sleeping. Just the sight of it made her heart clench painfully in her chest. The lengths Nick had to go just to feel remotely safe in his own home felt like a rusty, dull knife had been stabbed into her chest. She had no idea what he did when he _wasn't _inside the room. It didn't appear as though there was any other option than to just leave the fate of his belongings up to chance.

Swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat, Carole closed her umbrella and hung it on the door handle. She couldn't stop herself from giving the door a quick tug just to ensure that it did stay closed. It opened a few inches, but the trunk and dresser held, smacking up against the floor to ceiling copper pipe and making it rattle.

A sleepy grunt brought Carole's attention back to the bed. This time she was positive that Nick was asleep. His shoulders were relaxed into the mattress and his jaw was slack, a thin rope of saliva trickling out of his mouth and onto the pillow. Blinking rapidly, Carole shuffled to the opening in the wall, following the sounds of running water that would undoubtedly lead her to Mark.

Carole knocked softly as the faucet cut off.

"Mark?" she called, "I've got your clothes."

A sharp hitch of breath was the immediate response to her voice. Through the door, Carole could hear Mark babbling under his breath. "Oh my god. Just, _oh my god_. " And then louder in a high-pitched, strangled voice, "Just– leave them on t- the counter, please? I- I need to s- shower to cl– to, um... "

Even if Carole was going to lecture and ground him into the next century, she still felt terrible about all of this. She knew without a doubt she'd have been mortified for weeks if either of her parents had walked in on her the morning after her first time, because she was positive that's what she had walked in on. The humiliation had to be unbearable.

Carole tapped softly on the door again. "Sweetheart, just crack the door open so I can pass them through, okay? I'll wait out here with Nick while you shower and change."

It took a few moments of patient waiting, but the door popped open a fraction of an inch. A bright blue eye and a completely humiliated strip of Mark's face was all she could see from inside the dark bathroom. There was some faint light filtering into the bathroom, probably from a tiny window, but otherwise it was almost too dark to see. It didn't make any sense to her why it was so dark, unless Nick couldn't afford a light for the room, or it wasn't broken and he couldn't fix it. God, she felt terrified for both boys. Wordlessly, Carole passed the hangers and folded socks and underwear through the door to him and headed back out to the main room.

Carole paused next to the copper pipe, trying to decide what to do with her-self while she waited. For a moment she debated waking up Nick, but based on her experience with her own teenage son, Carole knew it wasn't going to get her on Nick's good side. Even if she did wake him up, she barely knew the boy except passing stories she'd heard from Jake, Mark, and a few other members of New Directions that hung around the house on the weekends. Instead, Carole slipped her feet out of Mark's boots and dropped them next to Nick's trunk, spinning back around to take everything in.

When Mark had told her about Nick's living situation, Carole had pictured what she thought was the worst image imaginable. It didn't even begin to measure up to the reality she was now standing in. It was the most depressing little room she'd ever stood in. Carole looked around as she took in what there was to see: a pile of clothes in the corner by the window, a rusty little heating unit that kept sputtering and coughing, some textbooks and notebooks scattered around on the floor, a rickety little night-stand with an alarm clock that didn't appear to work, a bunch of fast food wrappers piled on the dresser, and mini-fridge. No sign of warmth or care or love. It was just a beaten up room devoid of any type of happiness that would never pass any legal building inspection.

Her stomach tangled itself up tighter and tighter the longer Carole looked, and she suddenly had the urge to move. The clutter on the dresser caught the focus of Carole's attention. She slowly started gathering all the trash up in her arms, taking her time and making sure she didn't miss anything. When the dresser was cleared and her arms were filled to burst, Carole twisted around a bit to look for the trash can and spotted it in the far corner. Carole dumped the trash in and was just turning away when something that had missed the bin caught her eye.

A used condom. Carole's stomach churned at the sight and her face heated up. Then she quickly decided that this best left for Nick or Mark to clean up. They were being responsible, though. Carole was both thankful that they were and nervous that they'd already reached that point in their relationship. Both Mark and Nick were incredibly intelligent and if they thought they were ready for this stage then she would trust their judgement. It was more than she could say for Jake. Carole still didn't think he understood most of the pregnancy fiasco from last year no matter how many times she explained things.

She cleared off the trash around the mini-fridge next, and without anything else to do, turned back to the bed and nightstand. After a moment's hesitation, Carole cleared the box of condoms and lube off the nightstand and tossed them back into the open drawer. As glad as she was that they were being safe she really didn't want to see or think about their... escapades.

On the bed, Nick whimpered in his sleep, eyebrows drawing together and his body tensing slightly. Surprised by the noise, Carole watched as his arm started groping around the bed. She had no idea what he was searching for until his hand found the second pillow and clutched desperately at it. Nick wiggled closer to it, hugging it to his chest and pressing his face against the fabric. He breathed in deeply, and something about the scent relaxed him. The tension flowed out of his shoulders, and with a contented sigh his body relaxing into the mattress again.

"Mmm, Mark... " he hummed softly. The little smile that turned up the corner of Nick's mouth made her want to cry. He'd only ever been rude and mean in her presence, but Carole had trusted Mark's judgement and she hadn't been wrong. There was a sweet boy – man, she corrected herself quietly, no boy could survive on his own the way he did – hidden in there somewhere. And if Mark had found him, Carole only hoped she could do the same.

Nick shivered a little in his sleep and on instinct Carole settled onto the edge of the bed and gently pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. It just broke her heart to see this. Nick reminded her so much of Jake in a way, lying there hugging a pillow to his chest, clad in a pair of Ninja Turtle boxers, his room left a mess in typical teenage boy fashion. Nick was someone's child, someone's baby. Carole just knew that his mother would have been hysterical if she could she what his life had become; she'd blame herself for something that wasn't her fault.

Carole sniffled a bit, and brushed a stray, unruly curl off his forehead, stroking the back of her fingers softly over his scratchy cheek. When Nick turned his cheek and nuzzled against her touch, Carole didn't even try to stop the few stray tears that leaked out of her eyes.

God, Nick deserved so much more, so much better. A chance to make more than an endless circle of repeated mistakes. She was so glad Mark hadn't given up on Nick; had stayed around because he had seen something worthwhile. Just one glance at how Nick could be with Mark if given the chance told Carole he was worth the effort.

Behind her the bathroom door creaked open. Carole felt Mark limp up behind her before she heard him. For now, she would let Nick sleep. It was back into mom mode to deal with a disobedient teenager.

"He's so peaceful when he's asleep," Mark said softly as Carole stood up to face him, then he gulped audibly at the stern look on her face.

"Mark," Carole began, trying to remember all the lectures she planned out over the course of her morning. In light of Nick's apartment she'd forgotten most of what she had wanted to say before she told Mark he was grounded. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I _know_ that. But do you have _any_ idea how worried _I_ have been?"

"I- I have no excuse, Carole," Mark said weakly. "I just... I got here and got my phone – I was going to call but, then..."

Just from his broken speech, Carole gathered that there was something important she was missing. There was something that had happened when Mark had gotten here that had driven a simple text to let her know his whereabouts completely from his mind. She guided him over to the trunk, slightly worried by the way he was limping, and made him sit down with her on it. Mark winced as he gingerly sat down next to her.

Was it normal to be so sore after? Carole couldn't even think about it without blushing to the roots of her hair.

"Explain, please," Carole requested softly. She would be fair and give Mark a chance to explain himself at the very least. Then she would decide the extent of his grounding and punishment.

For the next ten minutes, Carole listened to Mark's story starting from when he'd left last night and they'd encountered a group of menacing homophobes right up until he'd realized it was Nick's birthday and that the boy was planning on celebrating it alone. The knife in Carole's chest twisted painfully at Mark's words. She was so glad Nick had walked him out and that the police had been cruising past. Who knew what would have happened otherwise.

"I'm sorry I didn't call or text or let you know I was staying. I got here and realized why he'd wanted me to stay so badly and I just... "Mark broke off, sniffling and brushing a tear from his eye. "Nobody should have to celebrate their birthday alone, Carole. I hate him sometimes but he just... Nick means so much to me now." Mark's eyes drifted over to the boy curled up on the bed. A fond, glowing smile turned up his lips. "I don't know how I'd get through my dad being in the hospital if I didn't have him."

Yes, Mark was falling hard – if he hadn't already completely fallen in love. Carole followed his line of sight, watching as Nick shifted a bit in his sleep and hugged the pillow tighter. Mark wasn't the only one falling if Nick's grip on that pillow meant anything. She put an arm around Mark's shoulders and pulled him into her arms.

"I know, sweetheart." Carole pressed a soft kiss against his hair. "But you're still grounded for the next week."

Mark pulled away immediately, looking shocked. "B- but... I know I was stupid, but it's not like I've missed school or some – "

"Actually," Carole cut him off with a very pointed look, "it's almost ten o'clock. So between that and the grief you caused me, you're grounded."

"It's– oh my god. I have a French test today!" Mark wailed in alarm, his eyes huge as he made to stand only to stumble and gasp in pain. He rubbed slowly at his lower back as Carole reached out to steady him.

"Are you okay?" Carole asked worriedly, "is it... _normal_ to be this sore... ?"

Mark's face reddened until he glowed brighter than the setting sun. "It is the um,... t- the f- first time. Once you g- get used to it then it d- doesn't, I think... "

Carole nodded slowly, her own face reddening as she stood, and helped Mark walk stiffly over to the bed. He dropped down next to Nick's knees.

"I'll wake him up so we can get to class," Mark told her. "Could you pick out some clothes for him? They're in the trunk."

Carole nodded and shuffled over to the door, popped open the trunk and pulled out the only shirt and pair of jeans left in there. The clothes in the corner must be dirty she realized as she returned to the bed. How and where Nick managed to do his laundry was a mystery to her, because she couldn't picture him trotting down the street to the Laundromat with a cute little basket and box of fabric softener.

Mark shook Nick gently as she dropped the clothes onto the foot of the bed.

"Nick. Nick, wake up. We're late for school, baby."

The term of endearment made Carole's heart give a funny twang in her chest. She'd heard Nick use the word during their very brief encounters, but it had seemed to be more of a nuance to Mark – a persistent and successful attempt to annoy him – rather than something affectionate.

Mark shook the sleeping boy more roughly when he got no response. Nick grumbled in annoyance and swatted at him before rolling, face first, into the pillow. Mark inhaled sharply next to her, and for a moment Carole didn't understand why until she looked at Nick's back. The first thing she noticed was two sets of four parallel half-moon shaped marks, one on the back of each shoulder. Embarrassed at the thought of how he'd gotten those she looked down his back and realized with a thrill of horror that those marks weren't the reason Mark had made that noise. An angry, red scar followed the curve of Nick's ribs, stopping about three inches from his spine.

"I've never seen that before," Mark whispered. One of his hands reached out to touch it but stopped several inches away from Nick's skin, hanging in the air uncertainly.

Carole looked more closely at it and said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, "It's a surgical scar by the looks of it. A few years old, at least, judging by how smooth it looks. Sometimes they just... heal like that."

Mark nodded slowly, but the calculating look in his eyes told Carole he was piecing something together from whatever Nick had told him.

"I never really see his– see his back when he's shirtless," Mark mumbled, dropping his hand to run along Nick's side, brushing the scar hesitantly. "It's smooth," he informed her. "No wonder I never felt it."

His fingers traced over the scar more firmly this time and Nick bolted up, grabbed the first part of Mark that he could reach and roughly yanking him forward by the shirt front, fist raised. Carole jumped at the violent reaction, gasping loudly, and Nick's sleep-crusted eyes darted to her. Something about the sight seemed to bring him back to reality. Nick blinked slowly, and looked back at Mark's frightened face. When Nick realized who he was gripping so tightly, he let go as though he'd been stung.

Nick dropped a hand to his side, tracing his fingers over the scar. He flinched and something dark flickered in his eyes. Carole stiffened at the sight. It had only taken a split second for the peaceful boy to disappear.

"Don't – just, don't touch _that,_" Nick spat angrily, throwing the blanket off himself. Mark stiffened even more at his tone, but didn't speak as Nick swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," Mark said softly, but something about his tone still gave away the stiffness in his posture. Nick glanced up and as soon as he saw Mark's tight expression the anger fell away.

"No, you didn't– you don't..." Nick scooted closer to him and dipped his head until their foreheads were pressed together. "I'm sorry." Nick murmured, cupping Mark's face in his hands.

It wasn't hard for Carole to realize they'd completely forgotten that she was sitting right next to them as Mark tilted his head and slanted his lips over Nick's. "Boys," Carole called, clearing her throat loudly to grab their attention. They broke apart gradually, hazel-green eyes and bright blue ones blinking open, and staring deeply into one another. The little smiles that broke across their faces made Carole's heart melt right down into her toes.

"Come on, Nick." Mark stretched across the bed to grab the clean clothes to hand to Nick. "We're late for sch – "

"What you do boys say to a late breakfast instead?" Carole asked suddenly. Mark needed a day off. He hadn't miss more than a few hours since Niall had fallen into his coma. He needed a break for a little while. What better time than now? They could even give Nick a proper birthday celebration for a change.

Mark turned sharply to look at her with big hopeful eyes. Nick's expression was instantly guarded as his eyes flickered to her.

"Really? Can we go to that little restaurant by the mall? You'll love their– "Mark's rambling came to a halt when he turned to grin brightly at Nick. His grin shrunk and the happiness that was becoming more and more rare for Carole to see flickered out.

"Can you– are you allowed to go that far?" Mark asked quietly, and Carole dropped her gaze to the ankle monitor fastened around Nick's calf.

"Yeah, I can make it to the mall," Nick said quickly, shaking his foot like a dog with a wet paw. He avoided looking up and meeting their eyes. "But, I can't um,... I don't have the... "

thought he was expected to pay his way.

"It's my treat," Carole said kindly, "consider it my birthday present to you, Nick."

Nick turned sharply to Mark, the smallest trace of fury flashing across his face."You– you told– "

Mark just rolled his eyes. "Well, I had to give her some concrete explanation for why I came over to get my phone and ended up in your bed, didn't I?"

Without waiting for Nick to make a snappy comeback, Mark turned to Carole. "Can we go by the mall, too? I want to get Nick some new clothes for his birthday."

"You what?" Nick said, completely flabbergasted by the sudden bombardment of gifts being thrown at him so soon after he'd woken up.

Carole smiled at his bafflement and listened to the two of them bicker like an old married couple. She loved the joy and wonder that crept into both boys eyes as they looked at each other. It was so refreshing to see Mark so happy, and to see that Nick wasn't the jerk he made himself out to be.

"Do you really expect to survive winter with only a few ratty short- sleeve shirts, Nick?"

"Well, you'll have to forgive me for not having knee- length sweaters in my wardrobe rotation – "

Carole yanked the clothes out of Mark's hands and passed them to Nick. "Why don't you go take a shower, sweetheart? We'll wait out here for you."

It didn't escape Carole's notice that Nick flinched violently at the pet name and she regretted the word choice immediately. Nick bit his lip, eyeing her cautiously as Mark pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and said, "Hurry up, Nick. I've got so many outfit ideas for you. We need to get that done before the mall closes– "

"It doesn't close for another twelve hours. At _least_!" Nick said in alarm, turning his wary gaze away from Carole and eyeing Mark incredulously.

"Exactly," Mark huffed. "That's barely enough time for shopping. Go. Shower. _Quickly._" Mark snapped his fingers in Nick's face, impatient in his excitement. Nick glared at him, but stood and headed into the bathroom. They sat in silence while they waited. The shower stopped just as the alarm clock went off. Mark and Carole both jumped and turned to the blinking electronic.

"Oh, good," Mark said, "the power's back." That explained why the bathroom had been so dark. Mark went about setting the correct time on the display until Nick emerged, hair damp, but he was much more awake. Nick shrugged on his leather jacket and Mark toed on his boots. It was then that Carole realized her own shoes we're in the car.

"Here," Nick said awkwardly before she could say something, tossing her a pair of beat up converse high-tops. "They'll probably be too big, but... "

Carole smiled at the unexpected gesture and tugged them on with a quick "thank you" as she smiled at the new piece of knowledge showing Nick was not only perceptive but actually caring if he wanted to be, even if he probably still had to get used to it. Like Mark's boots, they were a good four sizes too big, but they kept her feet dry in the flooded parking lot. "At least it stopped raining," Carole said. After a quick switch of shoes they pulled out of the parking lot. It felt almost normal to Carole. She turned on the radio and caught a glimpse of Mark and Nick snuggled up in the backseat, sharing a soft, murmured conversation.

Yes, Carole decided, even Niall couldn't object to how happy Mark was in that moment, no matter who happened to be the cause of it.

Mark could not believe how much Nick could eat. It was a good thing Nick had opted for the breakfast buffet the restaurant had, or else the bill would have emptied out Carole's wallet. He stopped count of the number of Belgium waffles Nick packed away at eight and the three plates of scrambled eggs, the two bowls of grapes and orange slices, and the mountain of bacon. Judging by the expression on Carole's face, she was just as amazed as Mark. Considering how much her son ate at any given moment, Mark knew he should be beyond impressed at Nick's appetite if Carole was amazed.

But it was hard to be impressed or focused on anything, when the arm not shoveling food into Nick's mouth was wound around Mark's waist. Nick hadn't left Mark's side since they'd exited his apartment. He'd been right next to him, a steadying arm around Mark's waist as he struggled to learn how to walk through the burn flaring up the crevice of his ass to his lower back. Carole had noticed the attention as well, though she hadn't commented on it. She flashed him a small, knowing smile throughout their meal and then every now and again at the mall when Nick would make some simple, sweet gesture.

Mark had never thought Nick to be the attentive type, but he'd also never thought he'd be falling in love with him either. He knew Nick shared his feelings on some level. It was the only reason he could think of for why Nick was putting up with trying on the most ridiculous outfits and hats and shoes. Nick grumbled and made a show of looking annoyed, but the sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable. He was happy. He was actually having _fun, _which was something Mark didn't think he'd ever seen Nick have before. He'd give anything for Nick's life to always be this simple. The other boy needed this normalcy in his life if they were ever going to stand a chance together. He needed something concrete and warm and solid – he needed people around him who supported him. Mark only hoped his own jumbled one would be good enough, and that his father, if he ever woke up, would give Nick a second chance.

"No– _no,_ Mark. That hat looks ridic–"

Mark yanked Nick into his arms, while Carole laughed from her seat next to the dressing room door, and stuffed a big feathery hat onto his curly head.

"Look," Mark giggled, frog-marching Nick over to the full-length mirror, "It matches your eyes."

"I look like a peacock," Nick said flatly, glaring at his reflection as Mark tucked his chin over Nick's shoulder and settled his hands on Nick's hips.

"You'd make a very handsome peacock," Mark said slyly. "All the dreary, dull female peacocks won't be able to keep their beaks off of you."

"They will if they know what's good for them," Nick muttered, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Mark's reflection. "I like my significant others well- equipped, Sheme."

Nick arched his ass against Mark, and gave Mark's reflection a flirtatious wink. Carole cleared her throat behind them, and Mark felt his face heat up a bit. It was so easy to forget that Carole was in the room when he was wrapped up in Nick. Nick twisted in his arms and dropped the hat to the floor, completely unfazed by Carole's pointed interruption. He pulled Mark close and pressed their lips together, humming softly when Mark's lips responded to the insistent press of his.

"I love the way you taste, baby," Nick mumbled against his lips, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Mark's jeans.

"Excuse me, are you guys finished in here yet?"

One of the store's employee's had appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two boys in each other's arms and Carole seated next to them.

Mark pursed his lips and bristled at the man's obvious disgust at their affection, but nodded anyway.

"Yes, we'll take those shirts," Mark told him, gesturing to a handful of long- sleeve, thermal shirts, and a couple of button- ups. They weren't much by Mark's standards, but Nick had refused to let him buy more even though he wanted to buy Nick an entire wardrobe. "And this belt," Mark added, unbuckling the belt holding Nick's jeans up and tugging it out of the belt loops.

The store attendant gave them a haughty, disdainful look as he flounced over and gathered up the shirts and belt.

"Jackass," Nick sneered, doing nothing to keep his voice down as the man headed out to go ring them up. A fierce glare was directed at him, before the attendant disappeared around the doorway.

"Nick," Carole scolded, standing up and shouldering her purse and a few of their shopping bags. Now that Mark thought about it, he should have realized how inevitable it would be for him and Carole to both end up with several new outfits as well.

"Oh, did I say the truth out loud?" Nick said sarcastically, as Mark grabbed up his own bags and led the up front to the registers.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they piled back into Carole's car and headed for Nick's apartment. Mark curled up with Nick in the backseat for the short drive, taking comfort in the boy's warmth. As soon as Carole and him dropped Nick off they would be headed to the hospital to visit his father and wait for Jake to meet them after his football game. Mark hated that he was starting to hate going there. After a solid week of no response and not even a fluctuation in his father's condition, it was more and more disheartening to sit there every evening, when Mark began to realize that things weren't going to change.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Carole gasped in shock from the front seat. Alarmed, Mark pulled himself out of Nick's arms and unbuckled himself as Carole pulled to a stop in front of Nick's door. Only the door wasn't closed like they had left it – it was thrown wide open and what looked like half a box of cereal had been dumped across the threshold. He felt Nick stiffen beside him and unbuckle his own seatbelt.

Before Mark had said a word, Nick was out of the car and pulling his pocketknife from his pocket as he approached his room.

Carole pressed her hand over her mouth as she watched him walk inside. "Has this ever– "

"No," Mark told her, opening his door and following Nick inside. The first thing he saw made his heart split in two. "FAGGOT" was scrawled across the wall above the bed, in giant red letters. Mark flinched, anger flaring up in the pit of his stomach, as Nick re-appeared from the bathroom stuffing his pocket knife back into his pocket.

Pure fury was etched into every line of Nick's face as he took in all of the destruction to his home. His trunk had been smashed, the contents of it torn and scattered around the room. The pile of dirty clothes had been shredded and tossed all over the place. The dresser drawers had been yanked free and thrown around the room. The food inside of them littered the ground and the bed, which was been partially dismantled, the mattress hanging off of the box spring and the blankets ripped and covered in what appeared to be the rest of the lube bottle's contents. Fluffs of cotton were mixed in with the food, some of it still drifting lazily in the air from the destroyed pillows. The mini-fridge have been toppled over on top of the acoustic guitar, its door swinging about listlessly as a few more soda cans rolled out and onto the floor. The shattered light bulb emitted a loud popping noise from where the lamp had fallen to the ground. Giant water spots marked the walls where condoms, probably filled with water, had exploded against them. Even the curtains had been torn down, though they seemed to be missing for whatever reason.

Mark's brain couldn't keep up with what his eyes were telling him. This had to be a nightmare. People didn't just run around and destroy someone's home for no good reason. But as Mark's eyes came back around to the word spray painted over the bed, he knew he was ignorantly lying to himself. He'd met the exact kind of people who did this type of thing just last night. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Carole entering the room and gasping in horror, but in front of him, Nick had kneeled down and picked something up.

When Nick stood back up, the torn photograph in his hand was trembling, but the look on Nick's face made Mark feel as though his own heart had been ripped from his chest. He inched closer to Nick, catching sight of the old photograph. It had been ripped right through Nick's curls, separating his mother's smiling face from his own. Something tight clenched around Mark's chest. He felt like he was suffocating.

"Nick... we- we can m- mend it or tape it or– "

"Get out."

Nick's hand was still shaking, but his voice was more steady and controlled than Mark had ever heard it.

"No," Mark said firmly, fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes and reaching out for Nick's hand.

It was yanked away before he'd even touched it. The constriction in his chest pulled tighter as Nick finally looked up at him. The look on Nick's face spoke volumes to Mark. He wasn't ready for this. Neither of them were ready for it. It was only when they'd met each other that they'd finally opened themselves up to the possibility of feeling something deeper, something worthwhile. Mark had had no idea how much this was going to hurt, and if he wasn't the slightest bit prepared for this then it must have run Nick over like a freight train. Nick had shut himself off for years, and now he was being overloaded to the point of drowning.

"Get the fuck _out_," Nick demanded harshly, throwing the photograph over Mark's shoulder and dragging his hands through his curls. Carole ducked down and scooped it up behind him.

"No. Don't you dare shut me out, Nick Atkinson– "

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Nick roared, slamming his fist down onto the dresser so hard one of the half- broken legs fell away completely, sending the dresser lurching forward and the cracked phone clattering to the floor. "God, I was so _stupid. _So _fucking stupid_ to think that this– that you a- and me..."

"Let's just clean this up and we'll figure something out– "

"Don't tell me what we're going to do, Sheme. _We_ aren't doing shit," Nick sneered, turning his hateful glare onto Mark.

Mark had never been punched in the gut repeatedly until he couldn't breathe, but he imagined it felt something like this. A single tear slipped out of his eye and before he knew it he was crying. Carole was frozen behind him, still horrified by Nick's room and what he was now saying. It felt like his entire world was crumbling down on top of him all over again.

"Don't... Nick, baby, don't shut me out," Mark hated how desperate he sounded; hated how much he needed Nick in that moment. If he lost Nick, if this was it...

"Why the hell shouldn't it?" Nick spat furiously, "What the hell has feeling things _ever _done for me?"

Nick turned to look at the angry red letters glaring down at them from the wall.

"This isn't your little fantasy world where we live happily ever after or some other bullshit, "Nick snapped. "This is reality. This is what happens to guys like us." He pointed towards the wall, and demanded, "Look at that. You see that, Sheme? That's how the world is. That's all you and I will _ever_ be. If the world's just going to beat me down and obliterate any happiness I can get, then why the hell should I be any different?"

"Because there are people that make the pain worth it," Mark said, grabbing Nick's arm and holding on tightly. He pressed Nick's palm to his chest. "_This_ is worth it. _You_ are worth it."

But Nick only shook his head slightly, and Mark knew he was already too far gone, had already retreated back into his cocoon of pessimism and hopelessness.

"Nothing is worth it," Nick said quietly as he shoved Mark off of him. "No matter what, the people who say they'll always be there _aren't_."

When Nick faced him again, his eyes were more dead and hollow than Mark had ever seen them. The freight train that had plowed over Nick had reached its final desKristination, slamming home into Mark's chest.

"Now, get out so I can unclog the curtains in my toilet in peace," Nick growled, shoving away Mark's arm when he tried to pull Nick against him. He pushed Mark towards the doorway and Mark stumbled backwards into Carole's arms. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as Carole half-dragged him from the room. The door was slammed soundly shut behind them.

Carole ushered him to the passenger seat of her car and locked him in. He drew his knees up to his chest, no longer able to stop the gut-wrenching sobs from exploding out of him.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Warm arms circled around Mark, but they weren't the arms he wanted to hold him right now. He wanted Nick wrapped around him, and himself wrapped around Nick, sharing all the love and comfort they had to give each other. Carole was familiar and warm against him, but she didn't sooth his soul the way Nick did. She didn't smell like peppermint and cigarettes or make his feel at peace all the way to the tips of his toes and fingers.

From the depths of Carole's pocket, something started ringing out a loud, cheerful tune. Sniffling, Carole pulled back a bit and dug out her phone.

"H- hello?"

He felt Carole shift away a little more as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Apparently, he wasn't the only one crying. He sat there and shook as more tears sprang to his eyes, not caring who Carole was talking to or why. He just wanted to knock Nick's door down and gather him up in his arms and never let go.

Carole's phone snapped shut next to him and he startled at the noise, glancing up through his tears to see her giving him a watery smile. What the hell was there to smile about when everything he'd ever wanted or needed had been snatched away from him in just a week? First his father, and now Nick...

"Good news," Carole said gently, brushing away some of his tears with the pad of her thumb. "Your dad's awake." Everything was too bright. Even after an hour of slipping in and out of consciousness, the dimmed lights of Niall's hospital room were still blinding to his eyes. Niall blinked sluggishly, but just the tiny glimpse of light stung his reKristinas so he settled for keeping his eyes shut. He was stiff and a bit sore, and when he tried to move his right arm, he felt something tug at the back of his hand and shift under his skin.

"Niall, don't move too quickly, honey."

Niall dropped his hand back onto the bed, his mind fuzzy and disoriented. His hand was too heavy to hold up for very long anyway. He felt like he weighed as much as he would on Jupiter. Even his eyelids felt like they had sumo wrestlers sitting on them. Niall knew that voice, though he couldn't place it at the moment. It was feminine and soft and tender. Whoever it was kept talking as he tried to wake himself up enough to respond.

Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was talking to a customer at the garage and then... what?

Niall couldn't remember much of anything at the moment. Something soft and warm squeezed his other hand and another, more hesitant, voice spoke.

"Shouldn't he be more awake by now? I- is something wrong?"

Another voice Niall knew, but this time he could place it. It hadn't changed or dropped an octave since his son was eight. But now it was frightened, cracking from emotion, and more lost and depressed than he'd ever heard it before.

"K- Mark... "

He coughed a little, his throat rough and scratchy as he tried to form a few more words. Nothing came out, though. He'd barely been able to hear his son's name over the steady bleep that filled his ears. Niall could only think of one place that made that noise. He must be in the hospital, though _why_ was beyond him. It probably had something to do with the _whatever_ he couldn't remember at the moment.

"Dad," Mark's voice cracked with relief, and Niall's hand was squeezed tighter. "Can... can you hear me?"

"Mmm. " Niall managed to hum quietly as someone else's hand slide into his right hand. The moment their fingers knotted together it clicked. Carole. His Carole. A thumb brushed softly along his forehead, and Carole's voice drifted towards him again.

"Open your eyes, Niall."

"Please, Dad."

Those words were all the reason Niall needed to fight the heaviness in his eyes and limps. With a huge effort, he blinked his eyes open, staring at the blurry vision of his son and girlfriend.

"I'll go get Nancy so they can run their tests," Carole said softly, pressing a kiss to Niall's forehead and standing up.

Niall meant to call after her, some teasing remark about leaving him, but all he managed was a weak grunt. Mark shifted his chair and lifted Niall's hand, clasping it between his own and pressing their hands against his forehead.

"I've missed you so much, Dad."

Tears were pooling in his son's red rimmed eyes. Just the thought that he was responsible for Mark crying, for who knows how long, broke his heart. He gripped Mark's hand tightly, trying to convey some sort of assurance when he couldn't really speak.

"I'm... o- okay," he managed to rasp out, as Mark brushed away a few tears trickling down his cheek. For whatever reason, the little smile that tugged at Mark's lips looked only marginally happy. Maybe his head was still too fuzzy from being unconscious and he was just imagining that.

Carole reappeared with a plump little nurse and a few doctors Niall had never seen in his life. Twenty minutes later, after several tests, a cup of water, and a lot of questions, Niall's head was starting to catch up to his last moments of consciousness from almost a week ago. A week in a coma, they told him. He couldn't believe it. No wonder Mark still looked so devastated – he'd almost lost his only remaining parent. But at least Carole had been there for him. Niall hated to think what would have happened otherwise.

His nurse raised his bed until he was almost in a sitting position before she left, promising to bring him something to eat before long. Mark and Carole pulled their chairs back up to the sides of his bed and took his hands again. Tears were still glittering in Mark's eyes, and Niall hated the sight. There was no reason to cry now. He was awake. Not completely out of the woods yet, but things were looking up.

"Hey, you don't have to cry anymore, buddy. It's gonna be just fine." Niall tugged weakly at Mark's hand, trying to pull him up onto the bed and into a hug. He wasn't even close to strong enough at the moment, but Mark seemed to understand what he was trying to do. Mark curled up to his side, and dropped his head onto Niall's shoulder. Even through the thin hospital gown, Niall felt the hot tears pouring down his son's cheeks. He looked to Carole for some sort of explanation, but found her own face screwed up to keep back her own tears. It was like waking up to find out that the NFL had been permanently cancelled. Except, neither Mark nor Carole cared enough about football to cry over it. He had absolutely no idea what was going on.

"Mark, what's– is this because of me, buddy? You heard the doctor, I'm gonna be fine now... "Niall trailed off uncertainly. He realized his heart attack and week in the hospital had taken their toll on Mark, he knew without a doubt that his son had been terrified and miserable, but he was awake now. Shouldn't they be happy and celebrating his miraculous recovery instead of lying here watching Mark sniffle and tremble?

"It's not– well, it is... that's part of it." Mark hiccupped a little, and stared down at where his hands were still encasing his father's. "So much as changed, Dad. Just... _everything _has changed."

More confused than ever, Niall shifted under his blankets a bit, shooting Carole a clueless look, and trying to shift Mark so that he could look him in the eyes. But then the door banged open, and Jake came barreling into the room, his football shoulder pads and backpack swinging around. They came dangerously close to smacking his mother in the head when he flung them into the corner and rushed over to join them.

"Jake Christopher Hudson! Watch where you're– "

"You're awake." Jake said bluntly, not even sparing his mother a glance as he dropped into Mark's empty chair. He dragged his sleeve across his sweaty forehead and heaved in a few loud breaths. If Niall hadn't known any better, he would have sworn Jake had run the fifteen miles from Sanibel to the hospital instead of driving over.

A moment passed, and it felt odd to Niall because it was so silent. Mark would usually sputter some witty, sarcastic remark when Jake makes such an obvious statement. He could almost hear it in his head, _"No, Jake. We painted eyes on his eyelids as a practical joke."_ But it didn't come. Mark shifted his head against Niall's shoulder a little bit, but didn't comment. It was so unlike him. Niall glanced down at his son curled into his side, and he knew, without a doubt, that something wasn't right.

"Dude, you look like your favorite sweater just got put in a blender." Jake had finally noticed Mark's miserable form tucked down between Niall's side and the rail of his hospital bed. "Are you sick or something? Is that why you missed school? Mom thought you were at B – "

Jake stopped talking abruptly, his eyes going wide as he stared in horror at Niall. He didn't know what Jake was so terrified of but one thing was clear – Niall wasn't supposed to be aware of whatever it was. It was pretty obvious that Jake regretted his near slip, but he hadn't stopped himself soon enough. There were only two people Niall knew of that had B names. Georgia and _Nick_... or That Bastard, as Niall had taken to calling him in his head. Either way, it was still a B. He sincerely hoped it was the former because he didn't think he'd be able to restrain himself from anything short of murder if it was the latter.

"You were at Georgia's last night?"

He'd hate himself for how ridiculously hopeful he sounded later. Jake cringed and that was all the answer Niall needed. Sure, he'd caught Georgia and Mark semi-making out that one time, but he'd never seen the daft cheerleader again. The odds had to astronomical for Mark to have gone to Georgia when he was upset about his father being in the hospital. Although, given his impression of Nick he didn't understand why Mark would go to him either.

Carole's grip on Niall's hand tightened and her thumb traced a few soothing circles into his skin. It was the latter then, his worst nightmare for his son's first love interest. If that's what Nick was. He'd missed a lot in the past week it seemed, and Mark had some sort of uncontrollable weakness for that vile, foul-mouthed little–

"No, I was at Nick's place, Dad."

Mark sat up, his lower lip trembling slightly, but he looked Niall square in the eye as he spoke. There was so much confidence in that look that Niall hesitated, the angry bellow dying in his throat. Instead, Niall sucked in a huge breath and willed himself to remain calm. The stern look Carole was giving him would have stopped his fuming rant regardless of whether or not he made his own effort to calm himself. Obviously, Carole had all the details and if she was fine with this situation (whatever it was) then there had to be a reason. A damn, good, flawless reason for Mark to still be associating with that delinquent. He'd seen that boy's ankle monitor, he knew what that meant– trouble.

"Why the– just what were... why."

Niall couldn't settle on a question to demand answers, too. At least, he'd kept most of his anger out of his voice. This was undoubtedly not what his doctors had meant when they'd told him to relax. But never mind that not. He'd had plenty of that while he was in a damn coma for the past week. Resting could take a backseat to his son's explanation.

"Dad, you don't need any stress– "

"And you think _not_ knowing the reason my son's lying here in tears is going to make me _less_ stressed?"

If anything, the constant worry and terrible thoughts that would invade his mind until he had real answers would be a thousand times worse.

Jake shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Carole's gentle voice interrupted the tense silence.

"Tell him, Mark. He needs to know." She reached across the bed and brushed Mark's hair back, and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"I– all right." Mark took a steadying breath and started talking. For the next hour, Niall and Jake listened to Mark, with help from Carole, stumble through the disastrous tale of Nick's life before Lima. If Niall hadn't trusted his son's honesty so much he wouldn't have believed any of it. He didn't _want_ to believe any of it. But, whether he wanted to or not wouldn't change the fact that Mark was tearing up in his arms as he started telling them about last night when they'd almost been cornered. Jake's mouth was hanging open in horror, and Carole's hand squeezed Niall's tighter when his grip became slack. The very thought of his son being at the mercy of those homophobic assholes tore him to pieces, but Nick had been there. Nick had protected his son. Unfortunately, he knew it wouldn't end there no matter how much he wanted it to. This would be the first in a long line of such incidents. It was an unavoidable conflict that Mark, and even Nick, would face for the rest of their lives. He hated that thought even more.

Carole ended up finishing the story, telling them how they'd returned a few hours ago to find Nick's apartment ransacked and how Nick had lashed out and then demanded for them to leave. Niall's chest clinched up, though it had nothing to do with his recent heart attack. Mark had curled himself up at his side, tears silently pouring down his cheeks as he hiccupped. He knew Lima as a whole wasn't very accepting of anything out of the norm, but the fact that people that terrible lived just a few miles from his home – people that would target his son – terrified him. How could anyone be so cruel? That kid had nothing and nobody to fall back on, and they'd taken what little he had left and made a mockery of it. Niall couldn't blame Nick for how he'd reacted. It made sense given everything he'd just heard.

"He's seventeen and he lives alone," Niall said faintly, letting Mark clutch at his hospital gown and latch onto him tightly. Mark hadn't been this much of a wreck since Elizabeth had died, and it terrified him because Nick evidently meant more to his son than Niall had ever wanted him to.

"He's got nobody," Carole told him. "Nobody except... " Her words trailed off as her eyes fell on Mark's tiny form. She looked back at Niall, an urgent need for him to understand in her eyes. And Niall already understood. He understood so much more than he wanted to right now. "He can't even lock his front door. He has to barricade it with his trunk because the lock is broken and he can't fix it."

Mark shot up at Carole's words and scrambled off the bed. Everyone else startled at the sudden, agile movement and watched Mark rub furiously at his eyes.

"He can't lock his door anymore. T- the trunk was smashed. What if they come b- back? I have to go– go help him or– or bring him here." Mark's babbling was slightly hysterical as he stumbled towards the door. Niall's heart ached at the sight. All his son wanted was to help this boy, a boy who had kept the life shining in Mark's eyes even as his world had threatened to collapse around him. An hour ago, Niall would have said he hated Nick Atkinson and would always hate Nick Atkinson for the rest of his life. He still didn't like him, but he was so grateful Nick had been around this past week and just _been there_ for Mark. It takes someone special to get through to Mark the way this kid had done, and from what he'd heard the same applied vice versa.

Jake's hand caught Mark's arm and pulled him back towards the bed. Mark's resistance to the tug was so weak he stumbled back and dropped onto the bed. He was still crying, the tears falling faster than he was able to swipe them off his cheeks.

"You're not going back there tonight, Mark," Niall said sternly. Or, attempted sternness. Everything was starting to feel heavy again. "This isn't something you can fix on your own– "

"Why? Because I'm sixteen? He _trusts_ me, Dad. He won't let anyone else see him like this! He needs me and I need him!"

"You're still not going back there toni– "

"I can't just sit here knowing they'll go back to finish him off!"

"Mark, honey, I don't think he'd even let you _in_ until he's calmed down some." Carole tried to reason with him. Niall knew from the look on her face that Carole hadn't liked leaving Nick there anymore than Mark had, but Nick was clearly a fragile, volatile boy. If his reaction to the destruction had been half as bad in person as Niall was imagining it to be, then they were better off letting Nick cool down on his own for a bit. Only then would Mark stand any chance of bringing the boy underneath back to the surface.

"Then I'll sit outside of his door until he does, I don't care! I am _not _giving up on him. He's come so far already."

The room's only door creaked open.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Niall turned away from Mark's tear-stained face and saw his old high school buddy, Jim Ferguson, step through the doorway. He was in full police officer uniform, spinning his hat on one of his fingers as he eyed them uncertainly.

"No, just a little... disagreement," Niall said, waving Jim over as Carole sat down next to Mark on the bed and wrapped an arm around him.

"I was just stopping by here to follow up on a case and heard one of the nurses say you were awake," Jim grinned down at him, and patted his shoulder. "Good to have you back, Niall. Was starting to think I'd lost my favorite mechanic."

"I'm your only mechanic, Jim."

And it was true. He'd been working with cars since he was fourteen and had helped Jim fix up his first busted up Chevy when they were seniors in high school.

"Well, I just wanted to pop in and see you. I've gotta get back on patrol, but if you need anything, you know my number."

He shook Niall's hand firmly and ruffed Mark's hair a little and said teasingly as he passed, "Chin up, kiddo. You look like your dad just made you do an oil change in your fancy clothes."

Niall's eyes drifted over to Mark's miserable face and he had a sudden idea that he hoped would calm Mark down for the night at least. Tomorrow was going to be another story.

"Actually, Jim, there is one thing you could do."

Jim turned and raised his eyebrows in response.

"You remember where you saw Mark last night?"

Jim nodded, "Yeah. Not the smartest place to be after dark. Doesn't get much worse than that side of town."

"Do you think you could keep an eye on that place tonight? Make sure nothing happens?"

Jim's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he shot Niall a calculating look.

"That kid in some kind of trouble?"

"No!" Mark defended immediately, "He's just alone tonight and there's always drunks outside... "

"But he's been in trouble. There's only a handful of reasons a kid your age would have an ankle monitor slapped on," Jim countered, folding his arms. He sighed uneasily, and glanced at the door to make sure it was closed before continuing. "He's on his own, too, isn't he?"

Mark had frozen next to Niall's knees, his mouth opening to vehemently deny the question, but he couldn't get his lips to form words. Niall couldn't either. Jim might have some idea of what they could do to help Nick. Still, he'd have to be careful. Jim was a good guy and a great cop, but given the little information he had on Nick now, any cop involvement would be more of a hindrance than a help. If anything it would push Nick even further away from Mark.

"Say he was," Niall started carefully, fighting the tiredness starting to weigh down on his eyelids. This was way too much mental exercise so soon after waking up. "What would happen if you guys got involved?"

"Usually, he'd go into the foster care system, but with a criminal record... "Jim paused and shook his head, "I don't know. It depends on what he's done, but if it's got him an ankle monitor he'd probably go straight to a juvenile detention center, or a rehabilitation center if they thought he was worth the effort to reform."

"What if someone took him in?" Carole asked sadly. Mark was shaking his head as she held him tightly. Niall knew Carole couldn't afford to take care of another teenage boy on her own, and while he certainly had the money to do so, Niall knew he was in no condition to do it. Besides, he still didn't know the boy beyond a few lewd comments that had made him want to rip Nick's throat out.

"In all honesty, that'd be your best option in this case. I could probably help you reset the ankle monitor to the new address, and get all of his basic information switched over for you or whoever took him," Jim said thoughtfully. Niall didn't doubt his words. Jim was a senior officer and had been with the same station since they'd graduated. "If you get the station involved he'll get put into the system or shipped off to a detention center," his eyes fell on Mark's shivering form. "I don't think you'd want that. Most of the guys aren't too... keen on gay rights either. I mean, if he's... "

Jim looked to Niall questioningly, and Niall nodded in confirmation. That was another good thing about Jim, he'd been around Mark since he was born. Any homophobia he'd had when they were younger had diminished as Mark had grown and shown them who he was.

"I'll keep an eye on his place tonight. I usually patrol around Thomas anyway." Jim patted Mark on the shoulder gently, and leaned down a bit to look him in the eyes. "Nothing's gonna happen to him tonight, okay? He'll be safe, I promise."

"T-thank you," Mark mumbled, wiping another batch of tears from his face, "Just, he... don't tell him you're there. H- he doesn't like cops. You'll only set him off if he knows you're there. He'll do something– something stupid."

"Sure thing, kiddo."

Jim patted Mark's shoulder again, and nodded to Niall, Carole, and Jake before heading out into the hallway.

"You have the best ideas sometimes, Dad." Mark's voice was still shaky and cracking from the emotional overload, but the tears had stopped for now. He leaned down and wrapped Niall in a warm, fierce hug and Niall sighed.

He didn't like Nick one bit at the moment, but clearly there was something there that he was missing. If Nick mattered this much to Mark, then he indirectly mattered to Niall as well, regardless of whether or not Niall liked him. Besides, he'd given Jake a second chance after the basement fiasco last spring and things had been so great ever since it was almost unreal. Maybe that's what he needed to do with this Nick kid, too.

_Nick squealed as his father hoisted him up and tossed him on the bed. His little ribcage was assaulted by two pairs of wiggling fingers as his father collapsed down next to him._

_"C'mere, you little rug rat," James growled playfully, tugging Nick into his arms as the boy laughed uncontrollably. They wrestled on the bed for a few moments, until Nick shouted shrilly in between bouts of laughter, "Okay, okay! I surrender, Daddy! I'll let you read me a story!"_

_James's fingers paused and he grinned slyly down at his son. "Are you sure? All that laughter makes me think you like being tickled more than stories!" His hands were a flurry of motion as Nick tried to wriggle out of his arms, peals of high-pitched laughter echoing around the room._

_"No, no! I want a story! I'll be good and I won't correct you tonight, I promise!"_

_"Hmm, if you're sure." He tickled Nick's side once more before pulling the giggling boy against his chest and fishing a book out from the little shelf next to his son's twin bed. Nick shifted against him, dropping his mop of thick, dark curls onto the left side of his chest and draping his little arm over him. James read animatedly for a good ten minutes, trying to ignore the way Nick was plucking at the fabric of his shirt and clearly not paying attention to the story of Peter Pan. The book fell back against his thighs and he threaded a hand through Nick's curls, and pressed a soft kiss against his son's forehead, waiting for Nick to voice whatever was bothering him._

_"Why does Mamma have to keep taking all of that medicine?"_

_James sighed at his son's words and sat up straighter, forcing Nick to sit up as well. "The doctors said they'll make her happier, buddy. It'll just take a few more weeks for her body to get used to them. I've already told you this."_

_"I know, but," Nick bit his lower lip and worry flickered in his eyes as he searched for the right words to explain, "She's not...not Mamma when they make her take that stuff. And she's so sad that you have to work all the time, Daddy."_

_"I- I know that, buddy. Your grandfather is very... he wants me to work more and help him out." James couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone as he spoke and it didn't escape Nick's notice._

_"Grandpa's mean," Nick said defiantly, tilting his little chin up and staring his father in the eye, daring him to challenge his words._

_"He's – Grandpa's just very difficult, Nick. He knows what he wants and nothing stops him from getting it," James said slowly, ruffling Nick's hair, "If I do better at work, Grandpa will be happier. Don't you want him to be happy?"_

_"I want Mamma to be happy more," Nick whispered quietly._

_"Well, that's what this weekend's going to be all about," James said, pulling a grin onto his face. They'd finished packing the car up after dinner. Tomorrow, the three of them would be setting out for the lake for a long, Mother's Day weekend trip."I even took the day off work so we can leave in the morning, buddy."_

_Nick gasped excitedly, "I get to miss school? Yay!""_

_"But I thought you loved school, amore mio." Lyra was standing in the doorway, smiling brightly as she watched her boys snuggling together on Nick's little bed. Nick smiled, too. He loved this time of night the best. It had been long enough since his mother's morning dose that she was back to herself until she had to take her evening dose. But he was never awake for that part._

_"It's kind of boring now, though," Nick grumbled, fighting down a huge yawn, "they always want me to take _naps_."_

_"Imagine how much more tired you'd be right now if you didn't take those naps," James said, picking him up and pulling back the covers._

_"I'm not tired," Nick mumbled around another huge yawn as he was tucked in, "my mouth is just stretching."_

_"Uh huh, and you're eyelids have taken up weight lifting," Lyra laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Ti voglio bene."_

_Nick's eyes drooped closed and he snuggled down under his Batman sheets. "Love you, too, Mamma..."_

_Too soon, he was woken by a sharp shake and his mother's voice, "Get up, Nick. You've got to go to school."_

_He blinked tiredly in the morning light. His dad had said they were leaving in the morning, hadn't he?_

_"I thought we were leaving for the lake," Nick wondered, rubbing his eyes and stretching._

_His mother's lips pursed, and that cloudy, empty look was back in her eyes. She'd already taken her dose of medication for the day. It was always at its worst in the morning. Her evening dose didn't wear off as fast while she was sleeping, and her doctors had started making her take a higher dosage in the mornings. Nick's stomach knotted up as the distance look was directed at him._

_"Your grandfather... needed his help this morning. We'll leave when you get back after lunch."_

_Nick nodded slowly and watched her leave. He didn't like it when she took her medicine. Her eyes got all funny and she always forgot to say she loved him, or to hug or kiss him. He got dressed quickly, ate breakfast, and was out the door with his mother heading to the bus stop half an hour later. It felt like his oatmeal had turned into a mushy monster in his stomach and was trying to claw its way out. Even when his mother took her medicine she still always took his hand when she walked him to the bus stop. But today she hadn't. Was it just the new higher dose making her act funny, or had he done something wrong?_

_The bus was just pulling up when they got to the corner and he turned to her expectantly. But she didn't kneel down or straighten his shirt or comb her fingers through his unruly hair before she hugged him. She didn't acknowledge his presence at all. His mother's eyes were vacant and hazy as she stared at the bus. It was like he wasn't even standing there. Nick knew something was wrong, but he didn't know the words to say it._

_Instead, Nick threw his arms around her legs, feeling hot tears prick at his eyes._

_"Mamma, I don't wanna go today," he sniffled quietly, "I wanna stay with you and wait for Daddy."_

_"Get on the bus, Nick. You're going to school."_

_"But– "_

_His mother's strong hand pealed him off and directed him onto the bus. The bus ride and most of his morning was a blur. It wasn't until after snack time that he finally forgot about his mother's coldness. Mrs. Brockton, his Kindergarten teacher, announced that they would be making Mother's Day cards. Nick was more excited than any of the other children in his class, and he worked meticulously until his teacher called them to line up for dismissal. He eyed his handiwork on the bus ride home. It wasn't perfect, and he'd probably used too much glitter, and the little purple flowers he'd made around the border looked more like lollipops, but maybe it would make his Mamma smile when she saw it. Maybe, it would convince her medications to like him, too._

_But, she wasn't waiting at the bus stop when he was dropped off. It wasn't unheard of, but it was extremely rare that she didn't meet him by the bus. His heart pounded a bit harder against his ribcage as he hurried down the block to his house. Maybe, his dad had only just gotten home and she'd forgotten the time. Yes, that would be it._

_The driveway was empty, though. His heart fell a little at the sight, but he shuffled quickly through the front door, slamming it closed as he tossed his backpack onto the doormat._

_"Mamma? Mamma, I'm home!"_

_His little voice echoed around the hallway and up the staircase. He clutched his Mother's day card tightly as he waited for her voice to answer, but it didn't. Stomach fluttering nervously, he wandered into the kitchen and then the living room. They were empty. The foyer, where the piano and other instruments were set up, was also empty._

_Nick called out again, but the house remained silent except for his shoes squeaking across the wooden floor. He came back around to the hall, and bit his lip. Maybe, she was upstairs taking a nap. Mrs. Brockton was always trying to convince him that naps were the most important part of the day because it gave them energy or something. His mother was always looking tired these days, probably because of all her new medications, maybe she'd had the same idea._

_Nick climbed upstairs and passed the open door of his bedroom and then the bathroom. He came to a halt at his parents' bedroom door. It was closed. He wasn't supposed to go in there when the door was closed, Nick reminded himself. But maybe if he knocked loudly enough as a warning it would be okay..._

_He rapped his knuckles loudly against the wood, and called out for his mother again. His voice was trembling. He couldn't help it, he'd never been home alone before and he was getting scared. Wasn't his father supposed to be home already?_

_He knocked one more time and still didn't get an answer. The doorknob was icy cold in his palm as he twisted it open. He didn't care if he got in trouble for going in there when it was closed, he had to see if she was in there. The door creaked open slowly, and he poked his head in._

_"Mamma?"_

_The big bed was empty and sunlight was flittering in through the open windows. Everything was neat and orderly as usual. Then, his eyes dropped down to the floor between his feet and the foot of the bed. His heart froze in his chest, and the air was knocked out of his lungs. The construction paper card fluttered to the floor._

_The carpet was stained a dark red and at the center of the spot was his mother, her beautiful face turned to him, her blue eyes wide and staring right at him._

_He rushed to her side and dropped to his knees next to her. "Mamma, are you okay? You're bl– "_

_The word died in his throat as his fingers brushed her cheek. The blood soaking through the knees of his jeans was warmer than his mother's skin. He stared into her eyes – eyes that couldn't see him, that were lifeless and glassy, and would never look at him with love again. He clamped his little fingers around her hand desperately, trying to will some of his warmth back into her as tears started to build in his eyes. He didn't understand. Why was she so cold? Why wasn't she moving? What was he supposed to do?_

_"Nick?"_

_He shifted on the mattress... wait, why was he on a mattress when he was clearly kneeling down next to his mother's lifeless body?_

"Nick? Are you in there?"

Nick twisted again and something damp pressed against the side of his face. Someone was knocking their fist against the door. But, his father hadn't knocked on the open door... Besides, he'd sat there holding her hand more almost an hour before his father had finally made it home.

The sound of wood cracking jolted him awake.

"Nick, please, open the door, sweetheart."

He sat up slowly, his heart thumping in his throat as he looked around the room he was in. A dumpy, cold, little bedroom. The mattress he was curled up on was torn and the curtain he'd draped over part of the bed and the night- stand to dry after its adventure in the toilet last night was still wet. He wasn't six and holding his mother's limp, icy hand until his father arrived home from work. He was seventeen and alone. His parents were both dead now. The door scraped against the floor again and he looked over at the wedge of daylight trickling into his room. He'd used the mangled remains of his dresser drawers to keep the door shut, although he didn't trusted it to hold up much.

A familiar face pressed into the opening and attempted a cheerful smile. Or she was actually happy to see him. Maybe. Either way, that unsettling warmth that nestled down into his stomach whenever he saw Mark shouldn't happen when he saw Ca– whatever her name was. He tried to pretend she didn't have one. It was easier that way. Some nameless woman couldn't remind him on his own mother. Because he was _not_ glad to see her. On the contrary, he never wanted to see her or Mark ever again. They made things hurt again, and he'd already had too much of that.

"I've brought you something to eat, Nick. It's nothing special, but it's warm."

If she hadn't mentioned food, Nick would have resolutely ignored her presence outside of his apartment until she'd left. The last thing he wanted right now was visitors, especially of the motherly kind, but his stomach rumbled painfully and he caved without much of a fight. He untangled the curtain-turned-blanket from his waist and shuffled over to the door, tugging the wooden boards up so that she could step inside. He let them clatter back into place, knocking the door closed.

"Food," he demanded sharply, tugging one of the big Tupperware containers and the spoon from her hands. He shivered in the blast of cold air the open door had let in and thumped his booted foot against the heating unit under the window. For whatever reason his tormentors hadn't messed with the little metal contraption. Of course, Nick imagined they'd probably have been electrocuted if they had tried because of the jumble of wires that were sealed together with only some duct tape. Their goal had been to hurt him, not themselves.

"H- how are you?" Carole stuttered uncertainly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder or to just offer him some comfort with her touch.

Nick jerked his upper body away from her and sat down on the bed, popping the container open. Steam poured out of it and whatever it was, some sort of stew by the looks of it, smelled delicious. He shoved a spoonful into his mouth. It tasted delicious, too. Or, maybe that was just because he rarely ate enough to fill him up. Even wood chippings would taste good when his stomach was constantly hungry. He felt Carole watching him as he wolfed down the big tub of stew and then moved onto the second container once he'd finished the first.

"I've got a couple more in the car if you're still hungry. I know how much boys your age like to eat," Carole informed him, hesitantly sitting down on the bed next to him. Nick flinched at the closeness, but he didn't feel like moving while he was stuffing his face with one of the best meals he'd had since he'd been expelled from Dalton. The reform school may have been a prison in a lot of ways, but the food had been nothing short of exquisite. Apparently all the rich delinquents' parents hadn't been okay with sub- par nutrition. The quick meal yesterday had been fantastic, but he was seventeen. He'd been hungry again by the time they'd left the mall.

Instead of pausing in his eating he swallowed a mouthful of the hot stew and grunted as a reply to her words. At the very least he could put them in his mini-fridge, which thankfully still worked, and ration it so that it lasted the rest of the week.

"I'll go get them, I guess?" It came out sounding more like a question, but Carole stood up and pried the door open and then shuffled out, shooting him another hopeful smile. He didn't like the way his stomach twisted up at that look.

Now that he was alone again, he let his spoon sink down into the container as he looked around properly. There hadn't been much time last night to sort through all of the mess before it got too dark to see. His first priority had been finding a way to keep his door shut because he had fully expected them to return a little after sunset when the girl next door got home. But, for whatever reason, they hadn't. He'd been up all night, using what was left of his duet tape roll to tape the torn pages from books, comics, and notebooks over the window to hide his room from view of the parking lot. The rest of the mess he'd rolled up in the destroyed blankets and tossed in the corner to deal with in the morning. He'd set the mini-fridge right and used the few books and comics that hadn't been destroyed to prop up the night- stand where one of the legs had been smashed. After that, he'd dropped down on the far side of the dresser and waited until dawn before crawling onto his bed to sleep.

He slurped down the remaining stew and dropped the empty container onto the dresser next to the broken phone. He briefly wondered if Mark had tried to call him last night. It seemed like a Mark thing to do, but the entire phone had been cracked right down the middle and the cord was stripped. Just another thing to add to his growing list of items to be replaced. Though, in this case he probably never would unless he got lucky and found another one in a dumpster. He'd be lucky if he could afford to replace all the clothes and food that had been destroyed. Maybe he'd cut off the water for a few months and just use the showers at school...

The door creaked open again and Carole stepped back inside, her arms full of three more food containers and a dark red pillow. Nick simply stared at her, somewhere between amazed and nervous. Why the hell did she seem to care so much? Mark he could understand. They'd been as close as two people could physically get, but Carole... he just didn't get her at all.

"Here's a few more, if you're still hungry. I can bring you some more tomorrow or whenever you run out," Carole said kindly, "And this–" she held the pillow out to him "Mark wanted me to give you this since– since yours was ruined."

Nick stared blankly at the offered pillow. What the hell was he supposed to do? Jump for joy and take it from her like somehow replacing his pillow made everything normal again? Carole's smile falter a little and she placed the pillow on the bed, eyeing the curtains and the rest of the mess he'd cleaned up. Her eyes stayed on the taped over window the longest, almost as though she was reading the comics or pages from his books.

"You can go now," Nick said suddenly. This was awkward and uncomfortable and every time she turned to look at him, his mother's dead face kept flashing through his mind. He didn't need any more reminders of his past. His own subconscious and his trips down memory lane with Mark had been more than enough to last him a life time.

"I thought you could use some company," Carole said smoothly. Something in her expression hardened as she dropped the containers on the dresser.

"I don't need you here. I don't need anyone," Nick scowled darkly, eyeing her with disdain. Sure, Carole was nice and Mark liked her a lot, but he didn't need all of these people invading his life. Mark alone had opened him up to all this new pain, and he didn't want anymore.

"Actually, you _do_ need me. Or, someone," Carole said bluntly. She turned to face him, and Nick gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the look on her face. Her expression was still soft and kind, but there was a forcefulness there he'd not seen before. "You can't keep living here, Nick. It's not safe. You're just a boy, you need an adult– "

"Like hell I do," Nick spat, rising to his feet and glaring at her. "What the hell have adults ever done for me? Died? Ignored me because they broke when they couldn't handle reality? Left me for dead because I can't choose who I am? Locked me up for dishing out the same beating I got?"

"Nick, not everyone is like that. I know it seems that way, but just, please, give me a chance," Carole said softly, "Your mother would want so much more for you than this."

His stomach clinched at her words, and his mother's last words echoed in his head again.

"You don't know a damn thing about what she wanted for me," Nick growled as he stalked over to the door and pulled it open. The wooden boards cracked a bit more as it slammed back against the wall. "Just because you're a mother doesn't mean you know anything about mine. Get out."

Some of the forcefulness in Carole's expression flickered. He could tell she regretted her words, even though she didn't seem to understand why they'd set him off so easily. She paused in the doorway and turned to face him.

"I'm not giving up on you, Nick. Neither is Mark. Whether you want us around or not, we're not leaving you alone. You're welcome at the Shemes or my house anytime." She dug through her purse and pulled out a manila envelope, which she opened. With a quick tug, a large picture was pulled out and presented to him. His breath caught in his throat when she held it up for him to see. "Here. I went and had it repaired and blown up this morning for you."

Carole placed the photograph, now bigger and sharper in focus, into his trembling hands. His mother's smiling face stared up at him again. Something cracked in his chest as the eyes in the picture flickered in his mind from bright and cheerful to dull and empty.

"I may not have known her," Carole added quietly, staring down at the photograph, "but I know that look. She loved you very much. Enough to want more for your life than a broken apartment and loneliness."

Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek before he had time to react. A soft kiss was placed on his other cheek and he froze in shock. Carole pulled away just as quickly and readjusted the shoulder strap of her purse.

"My address and phone number is on the back, sweetheart. If you need anything, just let us know. I'll bring you some more food soon, okay?"

She stepped outside and closed the door. His heart was pounding in his throat. What the hell had just happened? He glanced down at the picture again, and flinched this time.

Another flash of cold, dead eyes.

He tossed it on the dresser with the food and slumped over on his bed. He'd planned on going to the little market around the corner for a few essentials: a new razor, toothbrush, shaving gel, toothpaste, and a few other bathroom supplies. He didn't feel like doing much of anything right now, though.

Why did everyone in Mark's life have to care so fucking much? Was it so wrong that he just wanted to be left alone and never feel again? He didn't need Mark and his soft touches and gentle words and understanding. He definitely didn't need Carole waltzing into his apartment getting all motherly and trying to take him in or whatever. The only thing he needed was to be left alone. To think, to escape, to forget all of the things that Mark made him remember.

Nick tugged the pillow to his chest and pressed his cheek against it, breathing in deeply. He regretted it the moment the scent hit his nostrils. Vanilla and jasmine. God, fuck, this was Mark's pillow. He bit his lower lip and screwed his eyes shut, fighting back the swell of emotion trying to claw its way up his throat. The pillow hit the wall before he even realized he'd thrown it.

He didn't need them. He didn't. Only people who cared needed other people, and he didn't care. Not anymore. He'd been a fool to think he could start caring again in the first place. Nick tugged on his jacket and pocketed his wallet. Maybe, a trip to the store wasn't such a bad idea after all. Carole pulled her car into the muddy parking lot of Forestwood Apartments. She zigzagged a bit to avoid the numerous potholes and pulled into the open spot in front of Nick's door. Jake yawned loudly in the seat next to her and kept drumming on his thighs, his sleepy gaze shifting around to take in the rundown building.

"He lives _here_?"

Carole nodded as she turned the engine off and stuffed her keys into her purse. "Yes," she replied quietly, "isn't a very nice place, is it?"

Jake shook his head, and blinked a few times as he stared at the big window connected to Nick's room. Carole opened her door and got out, pulling open the back door and grabbing everything she'd brought for Nick today. She passed the six containers of food to Jake, pulled out the shopping bag from Friday afternoon, and the sneakers Nick had let her borrow. It was still rather early for a Sunday, especially by Jake's standards, but she'd insisted on stopping by again just to see Nick and make sure he was still fine. Jim had called last night to let them know he was on patrol again overnight, but she had still worried. Just because Nick's apartment was safe didn't mean Nick wouldn't go looking for trouble.

"I still don't see why I had to come with you. He's _Mark's_ boyfriend," Jake grumbled as they approached the door.

She realized Jake had a point. The only reason she'd suffered through forcing Jake awake at eight was to give her an extra set of hands and so that he could drive her car back while she took Mark's Navigator back to the Shemes house. Mark had been in no condition to drive it himself on Friday and as much as she knew Mark wanted to see Nick she didn't think it was a good idea just yet. Especially if they were ever going to get Nick away from this place. He had to trust all of them, or at least her, and not just Mark if this was ever going to work.

"Because Mark's technically grounded," Carole told him. She didn't bother adding her thoughts of keeping the two boys apart for a few days. If she'd let Mark come over like he'd wanted to Nick probably would have exploded again. Mark would push him to open up like she'd started to do yesterday and he'd get mad again. Carole could handle the rejection, but Mark was still a wreck from Friday afternoon. He'd been hurt enough over the past few weeks and maybe a few days without Mark around would soften Nick up for when they finally saw each other again at school tomorrow. At least that's what she was hoping for, because the only way Nick was going to open up again was on his own terms, that much was clear.

"I know, but still..." Jake grumbled, shuffling the containers in his arms as they stopped in front of the door.

Carole turned to him before she knocked, and bit her lip. She knew Jake and Nick went to school together, but she didn't know if they had ever interacted or how Nick would respond to him being with her. At the same time she knew that if she convinced Nick to live with her, Jake and Nick would be around each other a lot, and it was best if they get more comfortable with the other's presence now. Nevertheless, she was still worried that Jake's presence might make Nick shut down even more. Then they may never get him out of here.

"Just, Jake. Please, _please_, be nice and don't mention Mark or– or anything. I don't know how upset he still is about all of this," Carole pleaded, cupping his cheek so that he faced her. His eyes widened slightly in alarm at her serious tone, but Jake nodded at her and glanced at the comics taped to the window.

"Why's he torn up all these awesome comics? That panel – " Jake tilted his head towards the comic taped over the top left corner "is from one of the original Batman comics. It's, like, the best thing ever."

"He didn't tear them up, sweetheart. The guys who broke in did that. He just taped them over the window for some privacy."

"Dude, but that's an original print! That's just– they can't just– "

"Jake, please, there are more important things right now than a bunch of comic books, okay?"

"Right, sure," Jake said vaguely, still staring confusedly at the ripped up comics books plastered over the glass.

Carole rolled her eyes at Jake's lack of focus, but maybe Nick wouldn't mind talking comic books with him. At least then Jake wouldn't mention anything he shouldn't, and it might lay some groundwork between them. She tapped her knuckles against the door and pushed it open a few inches to peer inside.

"Nick? It's Carole."

When Nick didn't answer she pushed the door open a few more inches, thinking maybe he wasn't there and that her and Jake would have to wait. But the sunlight trickled in over her head and fell onto the bed where Nick was curled up under one of the torn red curtains with Mark's pillow hugged to his chest. His face scrunched up as the sunlight hit him and he grumbled and rolled over, dragging the pillow with him and burying his face into it.

Carole sighed with relief as she briefly glimpsed his face and bare upper body. No bruises or cuts or anything were visible that made her think he'd run into those jerks. She had hoped he would be awake and would let her in at some point to talk, but just seeing that Nick was physically okay eased the ache that she felt in her chest whenever she saw him. A shadow fell over her and the sunlight was blocked from the room. Jake's hand gripped onto her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"It's gonna be okay, Mom. Between you and Mark nothing's impossible."

She reached up and clasped her hand over her son's, even as her lip trembled a little. Jake leaned over her and looked inside. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

"Why's that written o- on his wall?" Jake whispered in horror.

Carole glanced at the bright red letters spray painted on the wall, too. "They didn't just destroy his comic books, Jake," Carole said softly.

Jake said nothing for a few moments and Carole just gazed into the room at Nick curled up on the bed. She really hated the thought of waking him up when he'd probably just gone to sleep. With how tightly he was gripping Mark's pillow it wouldn't have surprised her if he thought the pillow _was_ Mark. Just the thought of breaking him away from some happy dream made her chest ache even more.

"He's such a tiny dude," Jake said behind her. "I can't believe he can bench as much as me. He's like muscle, skin, and bones."

Carole finally turned her eyes away from Nick's sleeping form and looked at Jake curiously. She had no idea what her son was talking about. Nick wasn't on the football team. He couldn't _afford_ the costs every member of the team had to pay to the football program.

"He's in my weight lifting class," Jake clarified with a small shrug. "Benches as much as any of the guys on the football team, but I swear he's smaller than Mark."

She turned back to the opening and looked at Nick, taking in his broad shoulders and how thin his waist and chest were. He was certainly muscular, but very lean and so thin from not eating enough for however long that she could see his ribs where his skin was stretched taut. Perhaps she should have brought a dozen containers with her. He ate as much as Jake, maybe even more...

"He's a lot stronger than he looks," Carole remarked. "A lot stronger than even he knows, I think."

"Are we gonna wake him up?" Jake asked her. "He looks like he could use the sleep."

"No," Carole said regrettably. She knew Jake was right. He looked exhausted and had undoubtedly been up all night worried about someone breaking through the boards he set up behind the door. For now it was just enough to know he was still okay. She'd get Mark to text her in the morning to make sure Nick showed up for school and was still physically fine. His emotional state would be another thing entirely once he let them back in.

With Jake's help she wedged the door open enough to pass the shopping bag, shoes, and half dozen food containers inside before sending Jake on his way with Mark's Navigator. She dug through her glove box for a napkin and pulled a pen out of her purse to write Nick a quick note, letting him know she'd been by and would return tomorrow afternoon. She passed the note back through the door, dropping it down on top of the stack of food containers, and stopped for one last look at Nick. His brow was furrowed and he'd shifted away from the pillow while she'd been in the car. He fidgeted a bit and groaned in his sleep, finally rolling over, latching onto Mark's pillow, and quieting.

She couldn't see his face, but she knew Nick was smiling against the soft fabric. Somehow, everything was going to be all right. There was something unfathomably powerful that had brought Mark and Nick together, something that went beyond love and affection and friendship. It was the key to helping Nick get his life back and making these boys happy again. She'd come back every day until he trusted her enough to see it, too.

Nick woke from another nightmare with a yelp, his arms wrapped tightly around the pillow he'd been hugging to his chest. His heart was pounding and his chest was heaving as he pulled the pillow as close as he physically could. For a moment, he was almost able to convince himself that it was Mark he was holding. The scent of vanilla and jasmine, and the soft warmth. But then the fantasy broke. Mark's skin was soft, but it didn't cave to his touch. It wasn't slightly rough against his sweaty flesh. There was muscle and much more warmth enveloping him when him and Mark were curled up together.

He blinked his eyes open and his vision was filled with red.

Mark's pillow – the only comfort his room had to offer anymore.

He'd regretted getting so angry at it by the time he'd gotten back from his short shopping trip yesterday. The walk to the convenience store had cleared his head and helped him calm down, but he still hadn't known what to do with the thing until he'd pulled it close after sunset. He'd buried his face in it and hadn't been able to let go all night while he waited until sunrise to attempt to sleep.

A chilly blast of air rattled the door open a few inches. Nick shuddered and tugged the curtain up around his shoulders. It was a million times colder without Mark's warm body to tangle himself around. God, why did he feel worse whenever he thought about Mark? Shouldn't he feel better without him here to remind him how to feel?

He climbed off the bed and almost tripped over the pile off stuff next to the door when he went to shut it. He bent down next to the mountain of Tupperware containers and the shopping bag and tugged the little napkin off the top. It was a short note from Carole telling him she'd been by and would return. He paused at the end where Carole had signed her name. With _love_.

He gulped audibly and stared at it as Mark's face flashed though his mind. Fuck, his entire body just ached at the thought of Mark. It terrified him more than the way his heart swelled at the pile next to his door. He had no idea what to do anymore. Without Mark around everything felt like it was crashing down on top of him, and when he had been here he just wanted to shove him out and get him away from all of this before it got any worse. Before the cops checked in or caught him and took him back to juvie because he was living alone.

He dug through the shopping bag and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a dark thermal shirt and shuffled off to the shower. Maybe if he made the water cold enough the numbness would seep into his brain and heart and make everything stop hurting.

Nick arrived at Sanibel early on Monday morning. He almost hadn't gone to school today, but hadn't been able to stand sitting in his apartment any longer. Once again he'd been up all night guarding the door and waiting for whatever might happen, but nothing had. He passed through the side doors of the building and slunk down the hall to his locker. Half of him was dreading tonight and the other half was just glad that he could sleep in class without having to worry about waking up in the middle of a beating. He fumbled with the lock on his locker for several minutes, his hand unsteady as he tried to pick it. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to shove down his exhaustion. Ten minutes and he'd be in class and he could sleep and forget everything...

A pale hand closed over his own as his fingers slipped again. He breathed in sharply and shut his eyes as Mark's strong fingers steadied him. God, he'd missed that touch so much. Had missed the warmth and assurance of Mark's presence next to him.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Mark standing next to him. Mark's hand guided his own back towards the lock as he looked into Mark's eyes.

"You really should just use the combination," Mark said softly, as Nick twisted his wrist and the locker popped open.

Nick just shrugged as he reached in and grabbed a few books. He didn't trust himself to speak, now that he was face to face with Mark. He'd thought Mark would be mad at him after Friday, but if anything he just seemed more determined to be by his side. What the hell was he supposed to say after Friday afternoon? He'd been terrible to Mark, and, for whatever reason, Mark didn't seem to care.

"You look exhausted," Mark whispered, brushing his fingers through the curls on the side of Nick's head. Nick jerked away on instinct. God, it was too much. He was already overloaded and exhausted from everything he was feeling. There was no way he could add anything more to that without collapsing.

"Don't," he demanded sharply, his voice raspy and cracking. "Just, please, don't. I- I can't– "

Mark's hand retracted at warp speed, or maybe it just seemed that way because everything was hazy and fuzzy because he was so tired. Mark leaned against the locker bay and hugged his books to his chest as Nick closed his locker. The loud clicks of it snapping shut reverberated in his skull like claps of thunder. He groaned softly and started to walk away. Maybe he'd just skip today. It's not like he ever learned anything new anyway...

Mark's hand latched onto his shoulder and stopped him from walking away. He really didn't have the strength to fight him off at the moment.

"Are you sure you're okay, Nick?" The worry in Mark's voice just made him feel worse, but somehow he still felt better than when Mark wasn't there at all.

"I'm fine," Nick hissed. It came out harsher than he'd meant it, but, god, he was tired. He just wanted to sleep and make his head stop pounding.

Mark's hand disappear again, and the sudden lack of warmth on his shoulder made his throat tight.

"I'll always be here for you, Nick. I don't care how long it takes. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

Mark didn't wait for his reply, he cupped Nick's cheek and then walked off towards their first period classroom. Nick watched him disappear through the doorway and leaned back against the wall of lockers. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't make the pain or the hurt or the love that was swirling through him stop. He didn't know _how_ to make it stop. The only thing he knew was that he felt hollow and empty without Mark by his side.

Nick didn't remember most of the day. He slept through every class, and probably wouldn't have even moved from his chair in first period if Mark hadn't been there to wake him up. At lunch he went to the gymnasium and curled up under the bleachers and ended up sleeping straight through his weight lifting class. It was only when Coach Sylvester screeched loudly during the afternoon announcements that Nick woke up, smacking his head against the underside of the bleachers. Mark had probably been worried by his absence at lunch, but it wasn't as if he had the money to pay for the shitty school food anyway.

Massaging the bump forming on his head, Nick crawled out from under the bleachers and dragged himself down the hall and off school grounds. The walk to his building could have taken five minutes or five hours, he had no idea. Even though he'd slept most of the day he felt more tired now than he had this morning. He trudged around the fence that surrounded his building's parking lot and came to a halt at the sight before him.

Carole's car was parked in front of his front door again, but she wasn't alone. His stomach clenched tightly as one of the drunks that had probably destroyed his apartment pounded on her passenger side window. He couldn't even understand the words the man was slurring through the glass, he doubted Carole could either. But the intent was obvious enough from the way he was leering at her through the window. Somehow they knew she was there to see him.

Adrenaline pumping, Nick took off across the lot until he was right next to the man. He thought this one was called Henry or Harold or something.

"Fuck off," Nick snarled, shoving the drunken man away from her car. He stumbled a bit and tottered on the spot before his blood shot eyes found Nick.

"Hey, f- faggot," he hiccupped and glared at Nick. "Found yourself a new mommy, did you? What's she think of that slut you're fu– "

_Wham._

The crack of Nick's fist against the man's cheek echoed off the building's crumbling walls. But apparently the man wasn't as unsteady and drunk as Nick had originally thought. He stumbled back a few steps, clutching at his face, and then charged. Nick's back was slammed against the side of Carole's car as the man tackled him. He could hear her screams behind him, but he couldn't focus on that right now. This was just like when he was in juvie. No emotion, no thoughts, just reflexes and action. He caught a grip on the man's shoulders and twisted, trying to wrestle him off to give himself some center of gravity to work with. A fist connected with his gut, but his attacker had over-balanced in his drunkenness and stumbled. Coughing from the blow, Nick slammed his knee up against the other man's chest as a fist collided with his eye. Something caught his eyebrow ring and with a pained cry he felt it tear through his skin. The man's momentum carried him backwards and he stumbled head first into one of the pillars outside Nick's door.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

The enraged voice of his landlord made Nick stop mid- step. The drunken man slumped to the ground, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The stocky, little bowling ball of a man that owned his building tottered over to him, glaring.

"What the fuck are you doing, causing a riot out here, boy?" He eyed the drunk suspiciously. "One of your nasty little jail buddies?" He kicked the passed out man in the leg and glared at Nick again. "You keep attracting all this shit and you'll be outta here."

Nick sneered at him. "Like I fucking want to stay here in the first place. You won't even fix my damn lock and that's part of my lease."

But the man ignored him, and headed back to the far end of the building where the mailboxes were. He heard Carole's door pop open as he picked up his backpack.

"Oh my god, Nick, sweetheart, are you okay? You shouldn't have done that. He could have– "

"Get inside," he snapped tiredly, wiping away some of the blood trickling into his eye. He stepped over the drunk and shoved his front door open. Carole breezed in behind him, closing the door and dropping the boards into place. Her hands were soft, yet strong, as they grabbed him by the forearms and guided him over to the bed.

Too exhausted to protest, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and let her examine the gash through his eyebrow. He knew she was talking, rambling really, but he could barely focus on the way his eye was throbbing, never mind her words. He let his eyes drift close as she talked and pressed something soft against the gash.

"– you might need a stitch or two for that," Carole told him, her voice shaking slightly. "Nick? Are you listening, sweetheart?"

His shoulder shook a little and his eyes snapped open. God, he should not still be this tired.

"It'll be fine. I don't care if there's a little scar," he grumbled, hoping that was an accurate response to whatever she had last said. He looked over at her when she didn't immediately respond to his words. There were tears in her eyes, and her whole face looked like how he felt. Horrified, terrified, helpless in stopping everything the world was throwing at him. And all he had to look forward to was another sleepless night of waiting for intruders that might never come.

"You should go," Nick said softly, "it's just a cut. I can handle it."

"No, you can't."

Her words were gentle, but firm. They brought back the tightness to his throat that Mark's presence had done this morning. If he let them close now, he'd never get away. They'd get close to his heart and hurt him the same way his own family had.

"This is too much for even me to handle on my own, Nick." She reached up to pet his hair and for once he didn't pull back. The touch was soft and affectionate and even though part of himself was yelling to pull away, he couldn't do it. Maybe he didn't even want to...

"You're not staying here tonight," Carole told him decisively. "Mark and Jake are already at home with Niall."

His head shot up at her words. He hadn't known Mark's father was awake, let alone out of the hospital.

"He's – Mark's dad is– "

He couldn't even finish the sentence before Carole nodded. A wave of relief washed over him when he thought of how happy Mark must have been to have such good news.

"On Friday. I brought him home earlier and now the boys are with him." She reached down and grabbed his bag from the floor. "Please, come with me, Nick."

"I– " God, he wanted nothing more than to trust her. To take her offered hand and let himself be led to the Shemes house.

"_Please_, Nick. You're exhausted. Mark's exhausted. Let us help you."

He couldn't meet her eyes when he finally spoke. "Will I– if I go... can I see Mark?"

She dropped down to her knees in front of him and cupped his face between her hands and made him look at her. He could feel the pressure starting to build behind his eyes when he met hers. "I will _never_ keep you from Mark, Nick. You two are so good for each other. _Please_, stay the night at the Shemes."

"I– I– " He choked up a little on the words he was trying to push out, and stared into her pleading, hopeful eyes. It was a look Mark had given him a hundred times, and one he wanted desperately to see right now. "Okay."

Her face split into a wide smile, and his heart fluttered strangely as she helped him to his feet. "Just– just for tonight, though," Nick clarified as she lead him out to her car.

"You can stay as long as you want or whenever you want, Nick. There's no need to rush anything." She stopped him at the passenger side door and squeezed his shoulders. "We'll be here every step of the way, sweetheart."

With Carole's help he hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up. His eyes drooped closed and he was asleep before they'd even made it out of the parking lot. Bright lights were shining in through the windshield what felt like only moments later. Face scrunched up against the harsh lights, Nick shifted and squinted around.

"Shhh, I'm just picking us up some dinner," Carole murmured from his left, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

However, part of him still didn't trust her words. He forced himself completely awake and stared out the windshield at the building they had stopped at. It was a little restaurant he'd never been to, though he'd seen it during his mindlessly walks around town over the summer. He watched Carole walk inside and disappear and shifted around until he was no longer slumped down in his seat. At most he'd slept for maybe fifteen minutes, but he did feel a little better, a little more awake. Carole reappeared with several bags stuffed full of containers a few minutes later. He had no idea when she'd placed the order or even if she'd gotten enough for him and her family as she opened the door and passed them over to him.

"How's that gash feel?" she asked, brushing her thumb over the little bandage he didn't remembered being placed there.

It was stinging and his entire eye socket was throbbing from the punch he'd taken, but instead of saying any of those things Nick shrugged a little and adjusted the bags in his lap. Carole retracted her hand slowly, still eyeing him with concern, but she said no more as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove them to the Shemes house. Nick stared out at the little square houses as Carole pulled onto Mark's street. Some of his hesitancy and uncertainty was starting to creep back up on him. It couldn't hurt just to stay for one night, could it?

Carole insisted on carrying in all of the take away bags, which left him with only his dumpy little backpack as he followed her up the front porch.

"Come on, Nick," she said gently, nudging him through the doorway and into the living room. The first thing he saw was Mark's father and some kid from his weight lifting class seated on the couch and watching football together. They both looked up and stared at him when Carole tugged him further inside. Nick could tell just from Niall's stern expression that the man wasn't surprised to see him. He didn't seem pissed off by his presence either, which Nick thought was probably a good sign. His first impression had been memorable certainly, but in the worst possible way.

"Nick, I think you know my son, Jake, from school?" Jake gave an awkward jerk of his head and glued his eyes back onto the television. Carole looked to Niall next and said, "And Mark's dad, of course."

Nick bit his lips and nodded slightly at the man. It shouldn't be possible to be that intimidating when you had just been released from the hospital. God, what the hell was he doing here? Niall would probably skin him in his sleep and try to package him up and sell him as meat. He wouldn't even make a decent meal since he was just skin and bones. And then he'd never see Mark again or–

"Hello, Nick. Quite the shiner you've got there."

Jake seemed to have picked up on the tension between them, because he shuffled over to Carole and snatched up the food bags with a quick, "I'll go sort these out. Did you get me extra fries?", and ran off to the kitchen.

Nick nodded in agreement, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. When he didn't offer any explanation, Niall shifted his eyes back to the television. "You like college football at all?"

"Uh, yeah," Nick cleared his throat to take some of the gruffness from his voice. It was still raspy and exhausted sounding when he added, "I used to be a big Buckeyes fan."

"Yeah, me and Jake are, too," Niall said simply, his eyes darting back over to Nick. There was something like concern in his gaze and on instinct Nick took a step away from him, but Carole was right behind him. He swayed a little because of how exhausted he was, but her hands steadied him on his feet and kept him there.

"I should– I should go," Nick grumbled. This was too awkward. Mark's dad hated him. He _knew_ he did and he didn't blame him either. He was better off just risking sleeping at his apartment tonight than staying here.

Jake shuffled back into the room and towards the closed door opposite of them. Mark's door. Nick's breath hitched slightly as Jake yanked it open and bellowed down the stairs that dinner was here.

Nick had to shut his eyes at the swell of emotions that Mark's voice created.

"I already told you I'm not hungry, Jake! Besides, I've still got to finish my moisturizing routine."

Jake shrugged and rolled his eyes as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Nick barely noticed him walking past. His eyes were transfixed by the now open door. Mark was right down those stairs, completely clueless to him standing over his head. All he wanted to do was race downstairs and wrap himself around Mark, but Niall... Niall would never allow that.

"Go on, kid."

Startled by the words, Nick jerked his head around and stared at Niall. He could feel the desperate hope clawing up his throat as Niall jutted his chin in the direction of Mark's door.

"He could do with a good surprise."

Lips trembling slightly, Nick tried to say something, anything to tell him how much this meant. But nothing came out. Slowly, he trudged over to the open door, glancing back at Niall as though he expected him to suddenly change his mind. Once his feet hit the first step he practically vaulted down them to get to Mark. The room was empty, though, and his heart dropped in his chest until he heard Mark's exasperated voice echo out from the bathroom.

"For the thousandth time, Jake, I'm not hun– "

Mark appeared in the doorway, the towel he'd been using to dab his face dry falling to the floor in his shock.

"Hi," Nick whispered, taking another tentative step forward. Just the sight of Mark made his chest feel like it was going to crack because his heart was swelling painfully. And then Mark was rushing at him, and this beautiful boy was in his arms, and everything he'd been holding inside broke.

He pressed his face against the side of Mark's neck as Mark's arms wrapped tightly around him, and the tears started to cling to his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked out, clutching desperately at Mark's back as they dropped down onto the floor.

"Shh, I've got you, baby," Mark mumbled against his hair, and Nick felt himself being pulled closer until Mark's warmth was the only thing he could feel. He wrapped himself around Mark, and breathed in his scent between his shaky sobs. This was where his real home was. This was where he belonged, right here tangled up in Mark's warm, loving arms. Mark pressed his head back against the headboard of his bed and shifted a bit under Nick's weight. He brushed a thumb over the soft skin under Nick's eye, watching the boy's long, dark lashes flutter a bit. His heart gave a funny jolt in his chest as he looked over Nick's face – his slightly parted lips and almost peaceful expression as his warm, even breaths ghosted over Mark's neck.

He still had no explanation for the black eye or the bandage over Nick's eyebrow, or even how Nick had come to be in his house. Truthfully, Nick had been the last person Mark had expected to see when he'd heard someone come down to his room. But it had been the most welcomed surprise he could have asked for, at least until Nick's tears had started. The gut- wrenching sobs had made his chest constrict until it hurt to breathe, and he'd done the only thing he could do. He'd gathered Nick up in his arms and helped him over to the bed, laid him down, and held him until he'd fallen asleep.

It hadn't taken very long. The few minutes Mark had seen Nick in the hallway that morning had been enough to tell him that Nick had reached his breaking point. He wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Nick hadn't slept all weekend, and even if he had, it couldn't have been very well considering he'd slept through all of their classes and the fact that he'd still woken up looking more exhausted than before.

With a sad sigh, Mark sunk down the headboard a few more inches and held Nick tighter against his chest. Nick murmured in his sleep and nuzzled his face against Mark's neck, the arm draped over Mark tightening slightly. God, Nick was imperfect in the most perfect ways. Everything he tried to keep hidden was everything that Mark loved about him. He was so glad that Nick seemed to being realizing that Mark would take him as he was no matter the difficulties or heartache it caused.

From the top of the stairs Mark heard his bedroom door creak open and then the sound of approaching footsteps. For a moment he was terrified that it was his father. He knew his dad was still unsure about Nick, but it couldn't be him coming down the stairs. Niall was strictly confined to the ground floor except when he went up to bed. Besides, the footsteps were too fast. And they were too soft to be Jake's thunderous steps.

Carole stopped for a moment on the landing, a tray piled high with food and drinks in her hands.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, descending the remaining few steps and approaching the bed.

Mark shrugged as much as he could under Nick's weight, and mulled over the proper words. "He's better now that he's here with me, but he's far from okay."

Carole nodded sadly and pulled his desk chair over so that she could sit next to the bed. "He's been through so much. He's so lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have him," Mark mumbled, pressing a kiss to Nick's forehead and trying to sit up. "I didn't expect to have anyone understand what I was going through when Dad was in hospital. But then there he was."

"Here," Carole said, placing the tray on the desk and pulling Nick off of him a little so that he could sit up. Nick groaned in protest and fought out of her hold, latching back onto Mark's body like Velcro. Despite himself, Mark grinned broadly as Nick snuggled back down on top of him. He loved the feeling of Nick's warmth pressing down on him and surrounding him; loved feeling so wanted.

With Carole's help he arranged one of the plates on the mattress next to him and started eating.

"He's probably starving, but I'd hate to wake him up," Carole whispered, reaching over and brushing Nick's curls off his forehead.

"Yeah, he's exhausted," Mark agreed, pausing in his eating to stare down at Nick. "He cried himself to sleep earlier."

"He– "Carole paused and her face fell. Mark could see the heartbreak in her eyes, but he could tell she wasn't completely surprised. It had only been a matter of time until he broke down.

Mark speared a slice of tomato onto his fork and asked quietly, "What happened to his eye?"

He listened to Carole's tale while he finished eating. She'd arrived at Nick's apartment not long after school had let out and waited for him in her car. Some drunk man had come staggering into the lot and started shouting at her about her "little faggot pity project" until Nick had arrived and fought him off. Mark stared at her in horror for a few moments, easily able to picture the scene, but wishing he couldn't. When was the world going to give Nick a break? Was Nick just going to spend the rest of his life fighting to have an ounce of happiness? It wasn't difficult to see why Nick so readily chose to shut back down at the first sign of trouble. If every memory of Mark's own life had been that way he doubted he'd still be standing, let alone able to let someone in the way Nick had let him in.

"At least he's here and safe now," Carole said softly, picking Mark's empty plate up from the bed and setting it on the tray. "I just hope tonight will convince him to stay with one of us permanently."

"Why wouldn't he?" Mark asked in bewilderment. " We can't let him go back there."

"We can't really stop him either," Carole told him, her voice heavy with tiredness. "I can't force him to stay here, and if we get the cops involved... " She trailed off and looked down at Nick before adding, "The choice is his to make. I think it's going to take some time for him to adjust to being able to stay here. It's not going to happen overnight."

Mark pursed his lips, but didn't respond. He knew Carole was right. It had taken him weeks just to see anything worthwhile in Nick, and if Nick hadn't been so exhausted he wouldn't be in Mark's arms right now.

"I just want him to be safe. I don't want him hurt anymore. Maybe he'll want to stay if we're sharing a room," Mark said thoughtfully.

Carole face was suddenly stern. "For tonight, yes, because he's so upset. Your dad won't let this happen on a regular basis, or at all probably. Even if you two are... " She waved her hand at them and Mark took that to mean 'being intimate and having sex'. But his father didn't know all of those details. He'd been careful to leave that information out of his story. "You're both still teenagers, Mark, and if he's going to end up taking Nick in, then I imagine he'll turn his office into a bedroom or something. There will be house rules he'll set up for the situation."

He should have realized that tonight's sleeping arrangements were too good to be true. Nick wouldn't like being separated from him while still being in the same house. Hell, he'd probably try to sneak down to Mark's room every night. The thought sent a thrill down Mark's spine and made him blush, but this really wasn't the time to get turned on by possibilities.

"I'll leave this food here in case he wakes up, okay?" Carole said, grabbing his empty plate and putting his desk chair back. She helped him tug the comforter out from under them, removed Nick's sneakers, and tucked them in tight. "Goodnight, boys. Sweet dreams."

She bent down and kissed him on the cheek and then pressed a soft kiss to Nick's forehead before heading back upstairs and turning off the lights. Nick shifted against him, sighing softly as his hand let go of Mark's side and found Mark's hand where it had been resting on his chest. Surprised, Mark watched their fingers lace together, and let Nick tug his hand close.

He smiled softly as Nick settled back down into his arms and pressed his cheek into Nick's curls. "I love you, Nick," he whispered in the darkness. He didn't know what Nick would do tomorrow, but he hoped it wouldn't be long before Nick was always here and safe in his arms.

Jake was yelling at the television, but for the first time in years Niall honesty didn't care about the Buckeyes game. His ears were trained on the cracked doorway to his son's room, listening for the sounds of Carole's returning footsteps.

He still wasn't sure if sending Nick down there had been the best idea, but he knew how much the boy meant to his son. Carole had at least called and warned him about their unexpected guest, but he'd been nowhere near prepared for the completely broken boy that Carole had all but shoved through the doorway. The last and only time he'd seen Nick the boy had been cocky and arrogant, calling Mark names that still made Niall's blood boil when he remembered the encounter. But somehow it had all paled in comparison when Nick had suddenly stood before him, shivering with a hopeless, dead look in his eyes until he'd heard Mark's voice echo up the stairs.

Everything Mark had said at the hospital had made sense to him in that moment. The way Nick's face had brightened like a supernova, and his eyes had become transfixed by the doorway. Nick was not the same boy he'd met a few weeks ago, but he was still nervous at the thought of him alone with Mark, or even being in his house. Because regardless of whether or not Nick was the same boy he'd originally met, Niall still didn't know anything about him beyond what Mark and Carole had told him.

A loud cheer from Jake's end of the couch made him glance at the screen. Another touchdown for the Buckeyes, pulling them ahead by five with twenty- six seconds to go. This game was in the bag. He glanced down at the half- empty bowl in his lap, and then to the handful of fries Jake hadn't finished off yet. Carole had made him a separate meal, something healthy and salt free that tasted like plywood. Maybe he could sneak those last few fries. It's not like Jake would notice with the game still going...

"Niall Sheme, don't you dare!"

He retracted his hand quickly, trying to look moderately guilty as Carole stormed across the room and snatched up the to- go container. She glared first at Niall and then at Jake, who continued to stare at the screen. A sharp swat to Jake's head made him shout in protest and finally look up at her.

"I told you to keep an eye on him, Jake," Carole scolded, swatting at Niall this time. Niall let her hand smack lightly against his chest and offered no response as she carried the fries away. His stomach rumbled, and he couldn't stop the pout that took over his features. How was he supposed to survive on vegetables? He wasn't a rabbit or a goat or something. Carole returned and closed Mark's door all the way before settling down on the couch between them.

" It won't hurt to have just a few fries," Niall grumbled miserably. He could feel Carole's glare before he even looked over at her.

"You know what the doctor said. No junk, lower your cholesterol, and– "

"All right, _all right_." He sighed heavily and draped his arm over her shoulders. Carole nestled into his side and it was then that he realized something. Or maybe he was just completely focused on food right now.

"What happened to all that food you took downstairs?"

Carole tilted her head up to glance at him, looking slightly suspicious at his question. Apparently she thought he was that desperate for some real food, but she answered regardless. "Nick was asleep so I left it in case he wakes up. I swear he eats more than Jake."

Niall nodded silently. He remembered well what it was like to be sixteen. All he'd done was shovel food into his mouth every chance he'd got, and even then he'd still been hungry. From what Carole and Mark had told him he knew Nick had been living off crappy school food and whatever little bit he could afford for months. It wasn't that surprising that he could put away more than Jake.

"Was Mark still awake?" Niall asked softly, looking up at the screen as the final whistle sounded.

He felt Carole nod against his chest. "He ate a bit, but he's going to sleep now. They've both had a long day."

"Long weekend," Niall corrected gruffly.

"That, too," Carole agreed. She paused, and Niall felt her stiffen slightly against him. He didn't know why until –

"He said Nick cried himself to sleep." Carole's voice was sad and shaky. "That poor boy's had such a rough life. What would have happened to him without Mark– "

"Hey, no," Niall chided gently, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "None of that. He _does_ have Mark. He's got us, too, now. I mean, I don't like them being alone down there... together and all, but," he shifted a bit so that he could look Carole in the eyes. "I have _never_ seen Mark happier than when he talked about Nick. Even when he cried his way through that story... the way his eyes just lit up when he said Nick's name... I'm not letting that kid get away from him without a fight, okay?"

Carole sniffled and gave him a watery smile. "I just worry about him a lot, that's all. He's been on his own for so long. Even when he did have an adult around, I think he had to take care of himself."

Niall's heart thumped painfully in his chest as Carole dabbed at her eyes and dropped her head back onto his shoulder.

"He'll be all right," Niall reassured her. He felt slightly guilty for saying it because he _wasn't_ sure. There was no way he could guarantee that Nick was going to accept their help temporarily or even permanently. And if him and Nick didn't get along well then the kid definitely wouldn't stay, even with Mark there. At least he didn't think Nick would. Nick was more than welcome to the safety of his home, even if Niall ended up not liking the boy, because living here or just eating here was better than where he was now and Niall wasn't going to take that away from him. Or Mark, unless Nick gave him a damn good reason to keep them apart and not let him stay. It was so hard for Niall to judge Nick's reactions when he didn't know anything about him from personal experiences with the boy.

Jake toed his sneakers off next to them, and flipped through the channels. "What do you guys want to watch now?"

Niall remained silence as Carole started talking about some new sitcom that was on in ten minutes. He sat back and let them enjoy the show. There were too many thoughts and possibilities chasing each other around in his head for him to focus on what seemed to be a hilarious television show.

"Hey," Carole whispered, and he knew before she even continued that she had read his mind. "We'll worry about it tomorrow. One day at a time, okay?"

He smiled softly in reply and turned to watch the television. He let them argue over which show to watch next for two hours, occasionally joining in, but he could tell that Carole knew he was still thinking about Mark and Nick. By the time the ten o'clock news started up, Jake was yawning widely and asking them where he was sleeping since Nick and Mark were already asleep.

Niall jumped on the question before Carole could supply an alternative. As much as he trusted Mark, he didn't trust Nick, or more specifically two teenage boys, alone together all night. "Just sleep on Mark's couch like always."

"But isn't Nick on the– " Jake's words stopped as he realized the truth. "I'll just sleep up here instead," he said quickly, getting up and grabbing his bag, his face turning red. "I don't want to i - interrupt or, um... "

"Oh, no, there won't be anything to interrupt," Niall said forcefully, struggling to rise to his feet as he pointed Jake towards Mark's door. "Downstairs." At Jake's terrified look he added, "They're both exhausted, and will probably sleep until noon if we let them."

"Um, if you're sure... " Jake trailed away still eyeing the door nervously.

"I'll help you get situated," Carole told him gently, opening the door and tugging Jake behind her. She turned on the landing and raised her eyebrows at Niall in exasperation, clearly cottoning onto his intentions. Niall followed them towards the stairs and Carole stopped him, pressing her hands flat against his chest.

"Niall, you shouldn't be moving this much. You _know_ that."

"I'm going downstairs to see my son," Niall told her flatly.

She bit her lower lip and Jake turned to watch the exchange. Eventually, she nodded, but still looked as though this was against her better judgement. "Jake, help him down the stairs. I'll go down and turn the lamp on."

Carole shimmied past Jake on the top step and disappeared down into the darkness. Jake gave him an awkward smile and slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The lamp next to the staircase flickered on below them as Niall steadied himself on the railing and slowly made his way down the stairs. He could see Carole shuffling back and forth between the couch and Mark's closet with pillows and blankets as she made up a bed for Jake.

He was sweating heavily by the time they reached the carpeted floor of Mark's bedroom. Jake held his shoulders tightly, looking concerned as he made sure he was steady on his feet.

"I'm fine, bud," Niall grunted, wiping his sleeve over his forehead and dropping down into Mark's lounge chair. His muscles ached terribly from the few minutes of climbing down, but he still felt good. Tired, but good. Carole arranged the last blanket on the couch and turned to Niall.

"Are you okay, honey?" she pressed a hand against his forehead, and Niall closed his eyes at the sensation of her cool skin.

"Yeah, yeah. Just not used to moving a lot. It's fine," he said quietly, turning his gaze to his son's bed.

It was still dark and shadowy in the corner where Mark's bed was, but he could just make out the outline of his son's profile and a mass of curls against Mark's neck. Jake stepped past him, looking as concerned for Niall as Carole still was, and stumbled right into the coffee table. The table scraped across the wooden panels and the empty cup and popcorn bowl that had been sitting there clattered to the floor. Niall barely even registered them falling because of Nick's reaction to the noise.

The boy had shot up out of Mark's arms, a hand plunging into his pocket and pulling out something metallic that glinted faintly in the dim light. The knife was raised and steady, ready to strike whoever Nick thought was invading his room. Because Niall knew that's exactly what the boy thought was happening. The wild, terrified way his eyes, half- closed and crusted with sleep, darted around the room, the way his entire upper body was tense and practically humming with sudden energy. It all spoke of how he was used to living in constant fear. Niall rose from his chair, intent on doing something to assure Nick that he was safe, but Mark sat up quickly and grabbed Nick's wrist.

"Shh, it's okay, baby." Niall heard Mark whisper soothingly. Mark's other hand reached up and tilted Nick's face down, pressing their lips together in a soft, warm kiss. Niall froze where he was now standing, completely mesmerizing by the sight of his son kissing someone. It was gentle and slow and reassuring in a way that Niall knew his own words never would have been.

Mark touched his forehead to Nick's and started to ease the knife from Nick's grasp.

"K- Mark?" Nick mumbled sleepily, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Mark pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Of course it's me," Mark murmured, tugging the knife from Nick's grip and wrapping one arm tightly around Nick's chest so that he could hold him close. The other arm, stilling holding the knife, dangled uselessly at his side. Niall took a few slow steps forward, his heart trembling in his chest at the scene he was watching. He'd been told they were close now – closer than he'd ever wanted Mark to get to Nick– but he'd never imagined this. The loving touches and soft acceptance that was rolling off Mark in waves. The way Nick melted into his son's embrace and dipped his face into the curve of Mark's shoulder with a contented sigh. For a moment he swore his Elizabeth was the one sitting there rocking Nick, and not his Mark. His boy was so much like his dead wife sometimes it made him was to cry. Mark tangled one of his hands into Nick's curls and stroked them slowly, murmuring soft, sweet words against Nick's cheek that Niall couldn't understand.

God, when had his son grown up? When had the little boy who had demanded a tea party every Wednesday afternoon become such an incredible, caring, mature man?

Carole stepped towards the end of the bed, and took the knife from Mark's hand. Niall watched her drop it onto the night- stand as Mark shifted Nick in his arms and pushed the leather jacket off the boy's shoulders. For whatever reason, Niall had thought that Nick was bigger than Mark. Maybe it had been the abrasive personality, and the fact that he was loud, that had made him seem so much larger than he actually was. Niall couldn't help but feel surprised as he took in just how tiny and thin the boy actually was. Mark helped Nick out of the jacket and passed it to Carole.

"You wanna take your shirt off, too?" Mark asked him and Nick hummed and nodded a bit. Together they tugged the long sleeve shirt over Nick's head. It hit the floor right in front of Niall's slippers, and Carole quickly scooped it up and draped them over Mark's desk as the boys settled back down into the bed.

Nick sighed softly and curled himself around Mark's torso. Niall felt like he wasn't even there as Mark wrapped Nick up in their blankets and continued to murmur in his ear, focusing on Nick's needs this very moment more than any sense of what could have been uncomfortable self- awareness. Even worse, he felt like he was intruding on something private, something intimate that they were sharing that nobody else– not Carole, or Jake, or himself– could understand.

Jake had straightened out the mess he'd made while they'd been focused on Nick and Mark.

"I'm gonna change," he told them, staring at Mark and Nick snuggled up on the bed. He leaned down and kissed Carole on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mom." He turned to Niall next. "Night, Niall."

"Night, bud," Niall replied, still watching his son drift off to sleep. He was definitely going to have to make a huge effort to get to know Nick, because one thing was obvious to him now that he'd seen them together. Nick wasn't going anywhere for a very long time.

Everything was delightfully warm and soft. A strong pair of arms were holding him down and something fuzzy and soft was draped over his bare back. He kept his eyes shut and burrowed down into the other person's body. Nick didn't know why it was so comforting and reassuring to be held by someone that he was probably imagining while he was still half asleep, but it was a wonderful break from reality and his usual nightmares. He smiled a bit against the person's neck, deciding to enjoy it while it lasted. Because it never did. It would all come crashing down in a few moments when he was fully awake.

He breathed in and his throat constricted tightly as the scent snapped him out of his sleepy daze.

Vanilla and jasmine and a hint of cinnamon that wasn't familiar, but was still welcoming.

Mark. He was in Mark's arms, in Mark's bed, in Mark's house. He wasn't in his frosty and lonely apartment with the only hope he had for the morning was that he actually woke up. He was safe and, dare he think it, _loved_. The boy he was in love with had him wrapped up in his warmth and strength and had given him the first peaceful night he'd experienced since he was a small child.

Nick shifted a little and caressed the other side of Mark's neck with his fingers as he brushed his lips over Mark's throat. He had no doubt that he could get used to waking up like this every morning for the rest of his life.

"Good morning," Mark mumbled from above him. Nick opened his eyes to find Mark staring down at him.

"Morning," Nick rasped. He cleared his throat and dug his elbow into the bed, hoisting himself up so that he could greet Mark with a warm kiss. Mark hummed against his lips, and Blain felt his tongue trace over his lips. He sighed and dropped his forehead down onto Mark's.

"I was just about to wake you up in a minute," Mark whispered, tilting his chin up to brush their lips together again. "But this is much better."

"Definitely," Nick mumbled, sucking Mark's bottom lip into his mouth and making Mark gasp. Mark's hands tangled into his hair and pulled him down harder against his mouth. Nick shifted himself until he was laying on top of Mark and let Mark's tongue thrust slowly into his mouth. He moaned softly, and rocked his hips down. God, it had only been four days. He should _not_ be this needy and hard after only four days. Something of that might have to do with the fact that he'd just woken up and had already been well on his way to being rock hard, but still.

The hands tangled into his curls skimmed down to the back of his neck and spine. Mark's fingers pressed firmly into his back and before Nick realized it, Mark had rolled them over and was hovering over him. Nick let his legs fall open as Mark lowered himself down on top of him. The silky fabric of Mark's pajama top was cool against his chest as he felt Mark's hips settle between his thighs.

"God, I've missed you," he groaned, arching up and pressing their cocks together. Mark was half- hard against him already as they thrust roughly together for a few minutes.

Mark leaned down and whispered, "We have to be quick. Jake's already been in the shower for ten minutes."

Nick didn't even get a chance to reply before Mark's mouth covered his again. He rocked his hips up, tilting slightly to the left so that his cock pinned Mark's against his navel. Mark whimpered and rocked with him, their open mouths sliding together as Mark hardened against him further.

Nick didn't even bother with unbuttoning Mark's top. Instead, he grabbed the hem, and pulled it up over Mark's head and tossed it somewhere behind them. Just the few seconds without contact made him whine, but Mark was back instantly, rubbing their chests together and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He raised his hips up as Mark ripped down his zipper, and pushed his jeans and boxer- briefs down enough for his cock to spring free.

Mark's hand grasped him loosely, and Nick froze, staring up at Mark uncertainly. They'd done a lot together, gone as far as having actual sex, but he'd never really given Mark the chance to explore him or touch him like this. The hand on his cock tightened a little and slowly stroked up his length, slipping in his pre- cum and spearing it down to the base of his cock. Nick groaned and jerked his hips up, sliding himself through Mark's fist.

"Fuck," he gasped loudly, as Mark moved his hand faster, a little more sure. Nick knew it wouldn't that difficult for Mark to figure it out the rhythm he loved, but he knew from experience that some guidance and direction make it better. It wasn't as if Mark had never jerked off before, though the pressure and twist of his wrist might be a little different for the two of them.

"Tighter," Nick told him softly, reaching up and stroking Mark's cheek. Mark pressed his other hand into the mattress next to Nick's side and held himself over him as he tightened his fist. He could see the excitement and nervousness in Mark's eyes as he started pumping his cock again.

"Like that?" Mark asked quietly, dipping his head down and capturing his lips in a hard kiss.

As Mark's wrist twisted over his head, Nick cried out, his breathless moans muffled by Mark's lips. He was panting as he pulled his lips away from Mark's mouth. "Faster, Mark, just like that." He rolled his hips with the tempo of Mark's fist, the little gasps and moans escaping from his mouth getting increasingly louder.

From the bathroom, he vaguely heard the shower cut off and Mark's hand slowed to a crawl. Nick growled in frustration and glared up at Mark, who was staring at the bathroom door.

"Quiet," Mark told him, locking their lips together and forcing his tongue into Nick's mouth. The hand on his cock started moving faster again, and Nick whimpered faintly, one hand digging into Mark's lower back and tugging him down while the other pulled at the drawstring on Mark's pajama pants and pushed them down his hips.

He swung his leg over Mark's hip as Mark let go of his cock, and forced him down until their bodies were sealed together and their cocks were throbbing against one another. Mark broke his lips away and moaned loudly, thrusting down against Nick's warmth.

"Hypocrite," Nick hissed, arching up and rolling his hips faster.

"Shut _up_," Mark snapped, dragging his hands over Nick's ribs and making him jolt off the bed. Nick bit his lip as his entire body tensed and he held himself up against Mark for a moment, trying to force some air into his lungs.

Part of him hated the self- satisfied smirk Mark was directing at him. But, fuck, it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. Why did stupid Jake have to be down here right now? If they'd had more time and some lube...

Mark jerked his hips faster, dropping all of his weight down onto Nick's chest and trailing his hands down Nick's sides until they settled on his ass.

"Mmm," Mark hummed, pressing a wet kiss against his throat. "You really do have a nice ass."

A rush of heat zapped up Nick's spine and he arched into Mark's body as one of Mark's hands squeezed his ass. He couldn't stop the desperate whimper that fell out of his mouth. God, it'd been so long since he'd trusted anyone the way he trusted Mark. But he wanted to let Mark take control and top him. God, he wanted that with Mark. He wanted everything with this gorgeous man.

He tugged Mark's mouth down to his in a deep kiss, clutching desperately at the other man's back as his muscles started to seize up. The toned muscles his fingernails were digging into stiffened and Mark arched harder down against him, panting loudly and throwing his head back. Fuck, he'd seen that look enough to recognize it by now. Mark was teetering right on the edge of his orgasm, and Nick was glad to shove him head first into it.

"Fuck, I wish I had you inside me right now, baby," Nick whispered in Mark's ear. Mark's entire body froze for a moment and then his mouth fell open and Nick covered it with his own lips, swallowing the howl of pleasure as Mark came. He felt the warm streaks of cum splatter and drip down onto his stomach, and that was all it took for the rush to tighten his balls and shoot through his stomach and up his cock.

Nick groaned into Mark's mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, still rocking his hips slightly as his cum mixed with Mark's on his stomach. He was still panting heavily as Mark collapsed onto his chest. Limbs still too shaky to hold them both up he fell back into the pillows and decided to just focus on breathing.

Mark rose and fell on his chest as he slowly came down from the high. When he opened his eyes, Mark was staring at him hopefully, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright.

"Do you really want that?" he asked softly, walking his fingers up Nick's chest and neck until he reached his lips.

Nick met his eyes as the fingers traced over his swollen, wet lips and nodded slowly. "Why's that so surprisingly? I finger fuck myself all the time." He sat up suddenly, and pulled his jeans back up his hips, staring at the tray of food on the desk next to them. He felt defensive all of a sudden, guarded as though he shouldn't have to justified wanting Mark's cock in his ass. But maybe, he was being too quick. Maybe it was_ Mark_ that didn't want to switch.

"It's not," Mark said quickly, slipping his pants back up his hips. "I just... I dunno. You seemed to like topping so much, and you've never seemed interested in bottoming."

"I'm usually not," Nick said quietly, chancing a glance up at Mark's face. His legs were curled under him and he'd wound his arms tightly around himself looking as self- conscious as Nick felt. But when he looked into Mark's eyes, he knew he couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to. There was just something about him that drew Nick right in, that tipped him forward into Mark's warm acceptance and made him never want to leave.

"It's different with you," he told Mark, scooting closer and pulling one of Mark's hands away from his side. He pressed their hands together, palm to palm, and slowly shifted his fingers until they laced together. "I just... I want everything with you, Mark. So much that it hurts just to sit here and think it's never going to happen."

God, what was he saying? He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do to make this work, to make them last and to make Mark happy. But apparently he'd just done something right, because even though it had scared him to admit what he'd just said it was completely worth it. The most beautiful smile Nick had ever seen was directed at him as Mark slid onto his lap. It was wide and toothy and unbearably happy.

Mark's arms wrapped around him, and he felt his breath catch and settle in his chest like a dull ache.

"It already is happening, Nick," Mark kissed him softly, and his eyes sparkled as Nick looked at him. "I'm never letting you go. I'm yours forever."

Nick breathed in sharply, and didn't even fight down the tug pulling on his lips. He smiled widely, feeling happier than he could ever remember being as he hugged Mark to his chest. He'd been foolish to try and deny what was happening between them. Mark hadn't stolen his beating heart from his chest and forced it to love him – he _was _his heart. It was only now that he'd found him that Nick realized the most important thing was missing. Never before had Mark been nervous to go upstairs into his kitchen for breakfast. He straightened his outfit one final time, checked his hair in his mirror, and grabbed his backpack. From the bathroom he heard the shower turn on, and for one crazy moment he wanted to rush inside and join Nick. But he knew he couldn't. Jake was already suspicious because of the noises he had heard earlier, although he had seemed too tired to think much about it, and with Mark's luck his father or Carole would come down to see what was taking them so long.

Sighing sadly, he left Nick to take his shower alone and ascended the stairs slowly, dreading what his father might say after last night. He hadn't even realized anyone had been standing there watching them until Carole had moved forward to take Nick's pocket knife, and then he'd had other things to worry about besides his father's potentially volatile reaction to a few soft, comforting kisses. It wasn't as though his father wasn't aware of their relationship, but he wasn't aware of the extent of their physical intimacy. Mark was sure he'd get some sort of lecture about last night following his father's realization about just how close they actually were. When he entered the kitchen Jake was already stuffing his face, Niall was glaring at his own healthy meal and eyeing the growing stack of pancakes longingly, and Carole was pouring the last of the batter into the pan.

"Good morning, honey," Carole greeted cheerfully, shooting him a small smile as she tended to the last pancake.

"Morning," Mark replied, making his voice sound much brighter than normal as he tried to hide his nerves. Niall looked up from his bowl as Mark squeezed his shoulder and dropped his bag by his own chair.

Niall grunted sleepily in acknowledgement and glanced past Mark. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Mark took his seat and grabbed some toast. "That boy's not still sleeping is he?"

Startled, Mark paused in buttering his toast and had to replay his father's words in his head in order to figure out who he was talking about. "Oh, no," he said quickly, feeling a slight blush spread across his cheeks at the mention of Nick, or more specifically the thoughts of what he'd just been doing with the other boy. "I convinced him to take a shower here instead of going to his apartment for one."

"Good, that's good," Niall nodded, eyeing Mark across the table as he shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. His face twisted comically, and he gagged as the bland food hit his taste buds. Jake snorted around his mouthful of chocolate chip pancake as Niall grabbed a napkin and spit the mush into it. Under Niall's harsh glare Jake quieted instantly, but Mark couldn't stop the grin that pulled his lips back.

"It wouldn't hurt to add some cinnamon to that, I suppose," Mark conceded, abandoning his food and getting up to grab some from the spice rack. Carole turned the stove off and dropped the last pancake on top of the mountain on the table. When Mark returned Niall made a move to snatch the cinnamon from him, but Mark jerked his hand out of reach and glared accusingly at his father. "Absolutely not, you'll drown it in this."

Mark dribbled a few pinches of the brown powder into his father's bowl and closed the cap. "Stir!" he commanded, placing the bottle back in the spice rack and taking his seat again.

Niall grumbled under his breath mutinously as he mixed it into his porridge. Mark caught Carole's eye, but she just rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated look. It was going to take some time and a lot of guidance for his father to get used to his new eating schedule. His father directed another sour look at his bowl before hesitantly spooning some into his mouth.

"Better?" Mark laughed as Niall eagerly dug back into his bowl. His father didn't even nod in answer as he joined Jake in wolfing down his meal. Carole smiled affectionately at the pair of them and placed a pancake onto her plate.

"How did he sleep?" she asked Mark. Mark froze, and chanced a quick glance in his father's direction. Even though his father had casually mentioned Nick a few minutes ago, he was still scared about what his father might say or do. Niall had stopped eating as well, and the concerned flicker of his eyes towards the hallway made the fear in Mark's chest ease. It was okay, his father was a man of his word, he'd let Nick into his house and down to his room without Mark's convincing. He would do what he could to keep Nick safe even if it was for his, Mark's, sake.

"He was fine except for what you saw," Mark informed her. He glanced in his father's direction before adding, "I don't think he sleeps well unless I'm with him."

"How so?" Niall asked cautiously. Mark couldn't entirely read the expression on his face, but he thought his father would at least try to understand what he was about to say.

"He always looks exhausted," Mark answered quietly. "Even more so lately, but when... when we're together he's out all night. It's like he feels... safe enough to let himself really sleep," Mark decided finally.

He took a bite of toast and avoided looking in his father's direction. At this point he had no idea what to expect from Niall. He'd always been an incredible father to him – had always done what was in his best interests and supported him – but this, this was such a complex situation. What his father probably thought was best for him would be the exact opposite of what was best for _Nick_. Because Mark knew he was his father's first concern, and it broke his heart to think that nobody would prioritize Nick except from Mark himself.

Niall sighed heavily and let his spoon sink down into his bowl. Mark gulped nervously. He was absolutely dreading what he thought was about to happen.

"He's had one hell of a life until he met you," Niall started. And that was the last thing Mark had expected his father to say. Something along the lines of "I don't want you around him" or "You're too attached to him. You're going to get hurt if you stay with him" were words he'd been steeling himself for all morning. But not concern for his boyfriend – where they boyfriends now ?– not a fatherly approach to the boy who Niall remembered for calling Mark a whore.

Not trusting himself to speak, Mark simply nodded and bit his lip, waiting for the axe to fall. But it didn't. If anything, his father only surprised him even more.

"You make sure he knows he's always welcome here," Niall said solemnly. "I'd tell him myself, but I doubt he'll believe me."

"I think it might help," Mark cut in softly. Nick might unfortunately not trust Niall or even like him, but just Mark's word that his father wanted him there wouldn't assure him enough for him to stay.

He was surprised when Jake actually nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd be scared to death to come over here if you didn't say it was okay."

Mark flashed Jake a grateful smile and watched his father nod in understanding. This was more than he'd hoped for after last night. He had figured it would take several weeks for Niall to want to welcome Nick into their home on a regular basis, but for whatever reason last night seemed to have convinced him that the sooner Nick was here and safe the better off they would all be.

"Thanks, Dad," Mark mumbled standing up and hugging his father tightly where he was still sitting.

Niall patted his shoulder a few times and said, "The sooner he's out of that hell hole the sounder I'll sleep at night knowing you aren't visiting him in a place like that."

Mark pulled back, and took a shaky breath as he tried to rein in his emotions. Knowing that his father trusted his judgement enough to trust Nick meant more to him than anything else in the world.

"You two just... be– be good to each other, all right?" Niall's mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a grimace. "Be... be safe."

Heat shot up his neck and flared across his cheeks. He knew what his father was referring to and while there was absolutely no way he would admit that they needed to be, he wanted to reassure his father just the same.

"Don't worry about us," he said simply. "We mean everything to each other. I'm always safe with Nick."

"I hope you're right, Mark," Niall said tiredly. "He needs you a lot right now."

"He needs all of us," Mark corrected, looking around at Carole and Jake. Carole nodded in agreement, but Jake looked like a deer caught in headlights.

The squeak of a shoe on the hardwood in the hallway made him whip his head around. Nick shuffled into view, bag slung over his shoulder and hair still dripping wet. His eyes had been downcast, but he looked up quickly at the sudden hush and stares. The hazel- green eyes flickered over each face before settling on Mark, and the uncertainty and fear there was overwhelming. It was obvious that Nick had absolutely no idea what to do, that based on their sudden silence he thought he'd done something wrong. The reflexive step backwards was predictable for Mark, but he still hated that Nick felt the need to close himself off so quickly.

"I should get going, babe," Nick told him gruffly, making to spin around and bolt from the house, but Mark rushed over quickly, smiling despite of how uncomfortable Nick looked. He slid his arms around Nick's waist and pulled him in for tight hug. If they'd been alone he wouldn't have hesitated to kiss Nick until he relaxed, but they weren't and he really wanted to ease his father into this relationship instead of dousing him in it like a slushy facial.

He felt Nick relax at his touch, and clung to him tighter until Nick returned the gesture. He dipped his chin into the crook of Nick's neck and pressed a soft kiss against the slightly damp skin that now smelled like his body wash. Just the thought of Nick in his shower, using his shower gel, made him want to forget that they had school or that there were three other people in the room. Nick captured his face in his hands when Mark made to pull away. A firm pair of lips pressed insistently against his and Mark returned the pressure as Nick's thumb gently stroked his cheek. He tried to say without words that he was there for Nick, that they were in this together and Nick was completely safe where he was. It hurt to think that Nick didn't even feel safe in an eased and relaxed environment such as was his kitchen at breakfast.

When Mark finally pulled away he felt bashful and giddy. Nick gave him a soft, slightly shy smile in return.

"Good morning," Mark said brightly, bouncing slightly on his feet and beaming uncontrollably as he tried to reassure Nick as much as possible that this was a good place to be. "There's a bunch of pancakes if you want some. And toast and orange juice and other things."

Nick nodded slightly, looking stunned at how welcoming the scene he'd walked in on was, or more importantly, that it was directed at him. Mark twisted one of Nick's curls around his finger for a moment and then slid his hand into Nick's. "Come on," he said. "You can sit next to me."

He felt Nick's body tense in apparent protest, but Nick didn't say anything as he was forced into the empty spot next to Mark. He kept a firm hold on Nick's hand as he dropped into his own seat and settled their hands on his thigh, brushing his thumb over Nick's knuckles soothingly.

Carole pulled four huge pancakes off the stack and dropped them onto Nick's plate. "Here you go, sweetheart, " Nick's hand twitched in his and his grip tightened painfully, "I made sure I made twice as many so you and Jake wouldn't fight over them."

"It would have been an all out war," Jake told him, cutting off another piece and stuffing it in his mouth. "I 'ake muh 'an'akes vur 'er'ously."

"I take swallowing before speaking very seriously," Nick retorted, eyebrows raised slightly. "Just ask Mark."

Niall's spoon clattered to the table, and Mark felt his entire face burning. He'd expected a lewd comment at some point during the meal because it seemed to be some sort of impulsive defense mechanism for Nick, but he hadn't thought it would be because of Jake talking about pancakes.

"_Nick_," he hissed warningly, and much to his surprise Nick looked ashamed for the first time in his memory.

"Um, s- sorry?" Nick told him uncertainly. And then the cocky smirk fell into place like a shield when Nick spotted Niall's expression. Mark almost smacked his hand over Nick's mouth, but he wasn't fast enough. "You'll have to forgive my proper blowjob etiquette."

Nick's eyes were trained on Niall's face as though he was challenging him or even _daring_ him to prove himself to be everything Nick seemed to expect from a fatherly figure. It was almost as though he _wanted_ Niall to throw him out, just to prove to himself how cruel the world was or – and Mark hated himself for thinking it – to remind himself of how worthless he thought he was. For a terrible moment, Mark thought Niall was going to do just what Nick wanted him to do. But his father surprised him once again, and seemed to have realized what Mark had. It was probably the brief flash of regret Nick had shown that had done it.

"What you and my son do in your own time is none of my business, unless you make it my business. I suggest you don't." Niall paused and held out the jug of orange juice to Nick. "Juice, Nick?"

Mark watched Nick nervously. He knew how much effort that had taken Niall, and he also knew that Nick was not going to make this easy. He expected Niall to hate him after their first encounter in the parking lot. Nick only made an effort long enough to get people to give up or hate him, and while he'd let both Mark and Carole in to an extent, it was going to be much tougher with Niall considering he was not only _Mark's_ father but the fact that he was a father figure at all.

Nick looked confused at the reaction he'd gotten, but when he spotted Mark's glare his cockiness faded away.

"Um, yeah, s- sure," Nick mumbled, taking the jug and pouring himself a glass.

Breakfast was mostly quiet after that. Jake kept staring at Nick, somewhere between impressed and angry at how he'd spoken to Niall. Carole asked them each about their classes and smiled encouraging at Mark throughout the meal, though he wasn't sure what the encouragement was for. Should he try and start a conversation between his father and Nick? He'd much rather let them co- exist peacefully in the same room for now, and maybe try a short conversation tonight. Or tomorrow. Or maybe even next week.

"You guys should get going," Niall told them as they cleared the dishes half an hour later.

"I'll finish cleaning up," Carole assured Mark, who had started to protest. There was a quick round of goodbyes and hugs between the Hudsons and Shemes, and Mark felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach as he spotted Nick standing off by the hall, fiddling with his backpack and looking horribly awkward.

"Do you want to stop by and change your clothes and pick some of your stuff up?" Mark asked him as they were all herded towards the hallway.

"Pick some stuff up for what?" Nick asked in bemusement.

Mark felt his heart sink at the words, but he really hadn't expected one night to convince Nick to make Mark's home his own. Instead of answering the question, he said exasperatedly, "Then at _least_ change your clothes. You can't wear the same outfit two days in a row."

Nick rolled his eyes as they stopped in the entry way for their coats and Jake's sneakers. Mark could feel Carole and his father listening in on their conversation closely.

"Why not? It's not like anybody will notice if I do, "Nick told him with a tiny sneer. He saw Carole flinch a bit at the harsh words, but his father's face remained solemn. "You on the other hand would probably cause the apocalypse if you wore the same thing two days running."

"_I'd_ notice," Mark said forcefully, but Nick rolled his eyes again as though he had anticipated that answer. Not that Mark could blame him. He noticed everything when it came to clothing, but the thought that Nick was right – that nobody would notice, and if they did, they wouldn't care – made him feel like someone had clamped his windpipe shut.

"We'll see you boys tonight," Carole told them, and then she did something that surprised all of them. She pulled Nick into a tight, warm embrace and kissed him on the cheek. It was brief, but Nick's entire body tensed and he just stared down at her as she raked her fingers through his curls. "Have a good day, sweetheart. Are you coming back tonight?"

"Uh,... "Nick glanced to Mark and then to Niall. Something about his father seemed to make the decision for Nick. "Probably not."

"You're more than welcome if you decide to come," Niall said suddenly, and Nick actually jumped at the sound of his voice, looking startled by the tone and the words. "Anytime you need a place to stay you're more than welcome here, okay?"

Niall clapped him on the shoulder, and Nick nodded jerkily. There was something like hope shining in Nick's eyes when he turned back around and linked his arm through Mark's. Mark smiled at him again, and slid his hand into the pocket of Nick's leather jacket. He had the entire day to convince Nick to come over again tonight. Hell, he'd spend every day ignoring his teachers and not doing assignments so that he could convince Nick to stay with them.

But Nick proved impossible to convince throughout the day. It definitely didn't help that they only had two classes together and that he then also had Perfroming Arts after school. Nick stayed long enough to walk him to Perfroming Arts Club. But after a few passionate kisses, which got interrupted by Jen, he rolled away down the hall on his skateboard and disappeared.

By the time Jake and Mark left it was already dark, and he didn't feel like fighting Jake in whether stopping by Nick's was a good idea or not. He'd probably do more harm than good by showing up at this hour and presenting a target to the homophobes that frequented the parking lot. As much as Mark hated it, he drove them home, wishing with all his heart that Nick would be there waiting with his father. But he wasn't.

The next two days followed the same pattern. Nick shrugged off any mentions of dinner at Mark's place or questions about whether or not he wanted to bring a change of clothes over that night. Mark tried not to push him or make direct demands, but it was hard, even harder than it had been to tell Nick no when they'd been alone in that bathroom a few weeks ago. Every day the strength Nick seemed to have gained from the relaxing night at Mark's ebbed away more. Mark just wanted to throw the other boy over his shoulder and force him to come back to his house. The only improvement in his life was the steady progress his father was making in regaining his physical stamina.

On Friday morning Mark was running late and barely made it in time to catch Anna and Kristina before they left their lockers.

"Hey," he greeted as he skid to a halt in front of them.

Anna pulled him into a tight hug, and Kristina asked, "Is your dad still doing okay?"

"Yeah, he's doing really great, actually," Mark told her as they linked arms and headed down the hall towards English class. He kept an eye out for Nick the entire way there. By now Nick was usually arm in arm with him – had even let Anna latch onto his other arm yesterday morning – but he didn't see him. They made it inside the room just as the bell chimed and the sight at the back of the room made them all freeze.

Nick was soundly asleep at his desk, drooling slightly as his arms swayed at his sides. Mark's chest constricted at how exhausted Nick looked after only a few days back at his apartment without him there to ease the loneliness. The skin around his eye was still a dark purple, but the swelling had gone down and the gash through his eyebrow had scabbed over.

They shuffled over to their seats in the row in front of Nick and watched him as he snuffled a bit and pressed his cheek more firmly against the desktop, his lips parting so that his breath fogged up the surface.

"He looks _terrible_," Anna whispered sadly, dropping into her seat and immediately spinning around to look at Nick.

"I don't get it," Kristina added, looking at Mark as the morning announcements started over the loud speaker. "He was fine on Tuesday, except from that black eye, and now he looks like he's about to drop dead. What's up?"

"He–" Mark paused, draped his hands over the back of his chair, and dropped his chin on top of them. The unruly curls were inches away from his face and he could just make out the tip of Nick's nose. Nick could really use a haircut. Maybe he'd be able to talk him into one this weekend, or at least get him over for dinner tonight. "He's got a lot going on right now," Mark finished softly, leaving out the details for now. It wasn't his place to tell them anything about Nick's life.

Mark reached out and brushed back some of Nick's curls. The other boy groaned a little and nuzzled his face against the desk.

"You really like him, don't you?" Anna asked quietly, squeezing Mark's shoulder gently.

"I love him," Mark amended, turning and giving her a hesitant smile. Out of all of his friends only Jake was aware of the extent of his relationship with Nick or Nick's living situation. Finally admitting it to Kristina and Anna was a huge weight off his chest, especially now that he was certain that him and Nick were something serious.

A bright smile greeted his words and Kristina's head dropped onto his other shoulder. "I told you he was totally your type," Anna mumbled, turning back to the front as Mark shot her a pseudo- glare.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped playfully as he reached out and gave Nick's shoulder a light shake. He hated waking him up, but Mr. Base was the only teacher who made a point of noticing Nick's presence. If Mark didn't wake Nick up then Mr. Base definitely would, most likely by dropping something heavy right next to Nick's ear. The last thing Nick needed was to be startled awake and instinctively pull his pocket- knife on their teacher.

Nick grumbled weakly in protest and Mark pulled his desk back until his chair hit the edge of Nick's desktop. He pressed a soft kiss to Nick's forehead. "Wake up, Nick. Class is starting."

"Hmmm?" Nick murmured and raised his head a few inches, his eyes cracking open as he blinked slowly at Mark. A dull ache throbbed in Mark's chest at the dark bags under Nick's eyes, or more correctly under the one eye. The other was just a giant black circle and almost looked like someone had taken a permanent marker to it. He cupped Nick's face and brushed his thumb over his cheek.

"Class is starting," Mark reiterated softly. "Do you want something to eat or drink? Carole had me bring some hot chocolate and soup for you."

Nick's head drooped back down, his forehead smacking against the hardwood. He yawned loudly and slurred, "Cocoa?"

Mark couldn't hold back the adoring smile that spread across his face. "Yeah," he fumbled with his bag and pulled out the warm thermos. "She even added some marshmallows."

Nick perked up at his words and took the offered container, holding it between his hands and pressing his cheek against it. He sighed softly at the warmth seeping into his skin and Mark felt his smile falter as Nick shivered a little. He knew how unreliable Nick's heating unit was, and could easily imagine Nick having to bundle up in several layers of clothing just to stay warm for the night when it _was _working. He couldn't imagine how cold Nick's room got when it refused to work. Winter was already settling in quite comfortably around them even though it was only late October. Just this morning the weather man had mentioned a chance of snow over the weekend. His eyes fell on Nick's wrist and he took in the two shirt sleeves he saw under the jacket's worn, dirty cuff. Nick's only t- shirt was probably buried under that as well.

"What time did you get here?" Mark asked him quietly.

Nick shrugged a little, and unscrewed the thermos cap. He sniffed and then held his face over the top as steam poured out. "Dunno, it was dark when I got here." He yawned loudly again and took a sip of hot chocolate. "Doors were still locked. Janitor let me in when he got here."

"Nick," Mark started, half- scolding, half- exasperated. "Why don't you just stay at my house?" At Nick's alarmed expression, Mark hastened to add, "Even if it's just every other night. Or school nights or just_ something_. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I– "Nick began, but then stopped because he clearly had no idea how to respond to Mark's words. He swallowed another gulp of hot chocolate instead, and stared silently at his desk.

"Nick, what– "

"Mr. Sheme, class is beginning. Turn around and pay attention," Mr. Base called from the front.

Regretfully, Mark did as he was told, but not before giving Nick a look that told him this conversation wasn't over. He'd been slacking off over the last few days – been giving Nick a chance to come to them again – but he couldn't stand to watch Nick suffer without doing something about it. Every few minutes he glanced back at Nick to make sure he was still awake. For the most part the hot chocolate seemed to be helping by giving Nick something to focus on. But once it was gone twenty minutes later, Mark had to keep spinning around and tap him awake when Mr. Base's back was turned. It was a relief when the novel analysis was assigned for their next book and they spent the last ten minutes in discussion with their partners.

"Nick," Mark said sharply as the boy's head started to droop towards his desktop. Perhaps coffee would have been a better choice than hot chocolate. Now that Nick was full of all that warmth, on top of his exhaustion, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"What?" Nick snapped in annoyance. He rubbed his bruised eye unconsciously and then winced loudly.

Mark watched him gingerly poke at the sore skin for a moment before speaking. "I'd really like it if you came over for the night tonight," he said quietly. "My dad and Carole both keep asking about you. I know Carole's been dropping off food on her way to work, the food is much nicer when its fresh and warm."

Mark wasn't entirely proud of himself for that last part, but appealing to Nick's stomach might actually work to his advantage right now.

"I– I don't... I don't know, all right?" Nick muttered, glaring at the empty thermos on his desk. The bell rang and much to Mark's surprise Nick was quick to get to his feet and move towards the door. He was so shocked by the sudden, swift movements that he didn't even manage to grab his bag before Nick disappeared.

Anna called something out after him, but Mark didn't spare her a glance as he raced out after Nick. But Nick was already gone, had disappeared into the crowd before Mark had a chance to spot him. He arrived at their history class a few minutes later, and took his usual seat. Nick shuffled in right with the bell, and try as Mark might to talk to him through notes and whispers, Nick just shrugged and let his head drop down onto his desk. As much as Mark wanted answers to why Nick was so hesitant to come back over he could see how much Nick needed the rest so he dropped the matter. The same thing happened in Environmental Science and Mark left him alone until the bell for lunch rang. Once again Nick darted out of the room to avoid his questions.

It was only luck that he spotted Nick's jacket whip through the door to the boys bathroom. He slowed down to a walk and hesitated before entering. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect to find on the other side of the bathroom door. Mark realized that all of this was a huge adjustment for Nick, and that everything else in his life was slowly tearing him to pieces, but most of the time he just didn't know what sort of reaction to expect from Nick.

Nick was leaning on the sink when he entered, splashing his face with water and attempting to wake himself up, by the looks of it. Mark dug quickly into his bag and pulled out the towel he kept there for whenever someone decided to throw a slushy in his face.

"Come here," Mark said gently, dropping his bag next to Nick's and turning Nick to face him. He pressed the soft cotton against Nick's forehead and softly dried the other boy's face off, being particularly careful around the black eye. When he pulled back to drop the damp towel onto the sink he was prepared for the look of amazement that always appeared on Nick's face at any type of kindness directed at him, but he wasn't ready for the tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's all j- just too good to be true," Nick told him, sucking in a shuttering breath and shaking his head at his own words. "I figured I'd end up in prison and spend the rest of my life rotting there if the other inmates didn't kill me, and then you came along. I never imagined anything like this," Nick added quietly. "And you've got a family that wants to– wants to... I don't even know what."

Mark shushed him, and pulled him into his arms, rubbing his hand up and down Nick's spine and softly running his fingers through Nick's curls. He blinked a few times to hold back his own tears, and kissed Nick's curls. He'd known all of this had to be overwhelming for Nick after the past ten years of his life, but just how little he seemed to think of himself made Mark feel like he'd put his heart in a freezer and then taken a chisel to it.

"We're done for the day," Mark whispered, turning the faucet off and nudging Nick's bag out from under the sink with his foot. "I'm taking you home, okay? No arguments. You need sleep, rest, and warm food."

"Sneaking us out for a nooner, Sheme?" Nick yawned as Mark directed him towards the hallway.

"If you're lucky," Mark retorted, pecking Nick on the cheek and following him out into the hallway. Part of him expected a cocky reply to his words, but Nick blinked sleepily at him and took the lead as they entered the hallway. He let Nick take the lead as they darted down the halls and around the corners since he knew how to avoid the teachers on patrol. By the time they reached the student parking lot, Mark had his arm around Nick's waist and ended up hoisting the boy into the passenger seat of his Navigator. When he climbed into the driver seat Nick was already sound asleep, cheek pressed against the window. He reached over and buckled him in, sent Jake a quick text telling him where he'd gone, and another to Carole telling her he'd be home soon with Nick. His father would probably ground him well into his college years for skipping school again, but as he glanced over at Nick curled up in the passenger seat he knew it was worth it. Nick would always be worth it. He only had to convince his father of the same thing.

Niall hated being poked and prodded by doctors. But it was Friday, the day for his first check- up since he'd been released from the hospital, and with a nurse as his girlfriend he wasn't given much choice in whether or not he went. He grumbled miserably throughout the appointment as they poked him, checked his vitals, and readjusted his diet for the hundredth time. Carole insisted that the exam should be very thorough and made them run a dozen blood tests he didn't understand at all. They were sitting in one of the examination rooms waiting for the results when Carole's phone buzzed loudly.

Niall didn't think much of it until Carole stood up and moved to his side on the examination table, which made him be thankful they hadn't forced him into one of those ridiculous hospital gowns although he knew that as a nurse she had seen it all. She was still his girlfriend.

"Mark's on his way home," Carole told him evenly.

Niall tensed at her words and glanced at the clock on the far wall. Half past noon. Two hours before school let out. He mentally braced himself for whatever she was about to tell him. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing bad," Carole quickly reassured him. "He's got Nick with him. The poor boy's exhausted again," Carole added sadly. "I wish there was more we could do to convince him to stay."

"It's going to have to be up to him," Niall remarked. "He's stubborn." And an excellent match for Mark because of it, he silently added to himself. Anyone who dated Mark would have to be stubborn or he'd get walked all over. Nevertheless, it was still difficult for Niall to equate the boy from the parking lot and his breakfast table to what Mark and Carole had told him and the little he'd seen that time he'd been over. There was a huge part of Nick he was still missing, and he realized that, given Nick's history with fatherly figures, he'd have his work cut out the most to get to Nick in a positive way. He had no idea how to go about getting Nick to trust him so he'd at least stay over and minimised everyone's stress, either. He knew that getting Nick to see he as trustworthy enough would be key in getting Nick to stay. He'd never been good at puzzles, and Nick Atkinson was the biggest puzzle he'd ever met.

"They don't have school tomorrow," Carole said absentmindedly as she rubbed a few soothing circles into his back. "This weekend could be a good chance to make him _want_ to stay."

Niall grunted in acknowledgement, and shifted on the tissue on the bed. It crinkled up and he grimaced at the noise, making Carole laughed. "You're never going to be comfortable in a hospital, are you?"

"Maybe if I come visit you enough," Niall relented, shifting again and letting Carole wrap her arms around him.

For the next few hours Carole whispered a bunch of ideas to try with Nick into Niall's ear. It was mid- afternoon by the time they got the results for his blood work. Everything checked out normal, much to their relief, though his doctor still insisted on him returning at the same time next week to okay him to start easing back into work at the shop. They made a quick stop at Carole's work station to check her schedule for the coming week and then headed back home. As much as he hated admitting it, he was already tired from the few hours of walking around at the hospital. He didn't even fight Carole when she put an arm around his shoulders, helped him up the front porch, and through the doorway.

He'd almost forgotten about Mark and Nick being there until they walked into the living room and saw them curled up on the couch together. The television was on, playing some sort of fashion show that Mark loved to watch. Nick was sound asleep on Mark's chest, snoring lightly as Mark's fingers played with his curls. It was such a contrast to the boy Nick kept presenting to him, even a huge difference from the terrified boy that had pulled out a knife the other night. He just didn't know what to make of it all.

Mark's eyes, which had been closed, blinked open when Carole shuffled over and brushed his hair back.

"What'd the doctor say?" Mark asked anxiously. The worry in his voice broke Niall's heart. He hated making Mark worry even more than he hated going to the doctor. It wasn't Mark's job to worry about him. It should be the other way around, if at all. He was the father, _he_ should be worried about his son. His son shouldn't have to be terrified that he was going to collapse.

"I checked out fine, buddy," Niall assured him, stepping over to stand next to Carole.

"Do you two want a blanket?" Carole asked Mark quietly, bending down to take a look at Nick's black eye.

"If you don't mind," Mark mumbled. Niall tugged one off the blanket rack in the corner and helped Carole drape it over the two boys. Nick grumbled in his sleep and shifted off of Mark's chest, rolling backwards towards the edge of the couch.

"Whoa, kiddo," Niall said, pushing Nick's back and making him roll onto his side so that he was face to face with Mark. Mark quickly wrapped Nick up in his arms and pulled him close, shifting back and further into the couch.

His son stared up at him quietly for a moment, rubbing his hands up and down Nick's back and pressing his cheek against the mass of curls. "You've got a name for him," Mark remarked, pulling the blanket up a little higher and allowing Nick's fingers to curl into the material of his sweater. He smiled down at Nick for a moment and then his eyes went back to Niall.

"Huh?" Niall grunted as he grabbed the remote and dropped into his favorite chair. It was a deflection of his part and he knew it, but it was very bizarre for him to think he was comfortable enough with Nick to give him a nickname like he'd done with Jake and Mark. He didn't even _know_ this kid.

"Kiddo," Mark replied. "You called him kiddo. Just like you call me buddy and Jake bud or sport."

Carole was smiling at him, a big, beautiful, toothy smile, and he shifted and busied himself with surfing through the channels, trying to brush off the obvious. Yes, he cared about the boy. It was hard not to after everything he'd heard and just the little bit he'd seen. Especially when it was so obvious that his son was in love with the kid. In that regard he couldn't help but care in some way. His son's happiness was directly tied to Nick, and more than anything else in the world he wanted Mark to be happy. He deserved that – they both did – after the childhoods they'd had.

"Are we waiting for Jake to have dinner?" he asked instead of commenting on Mark's observation.

"I suppose so," Carole said, still smiling at him. She bent down and pecked him on the cheek. "It is family dinner night, and Nick could do with a few more hours of sleep." She smiled affectionately over at Mark and Nick. "I'm going to take a shower and then start dinner, okay?"

"Let me know when you want to start it so I can help you," Mark told her.

Niall smiled fondly at them as Carole shuffled off towards the hallway. It was so nice to see them getting along so well, to know that even if Mark may never see Carole as his mother that he could still see her as a close friend to put his trust in. It was more than Niall had ever hoped for when Mark had started pushing him back into the dating scene.

One of Nick's legs kicked out and he started to roll in his sleep again. Exasperated, Mark tugged him back into his arms. "God, you're really squirmy when you're not on a bed, huh?"

Niall tried to hide the way he blanked the comment because he absolutely _hated_ thinking about those two in a bed together. Sure, he'd seen it himself, and it had been innocent, but he wasn't stupid. There was no doubt in his mind that his son had done things with Nick that he never wanted to know about. Nick settled back down into Mark's arms, and Niall heard Mark sigh softly as he decided on a sports channel to watch. Niall sunk back into his chair and let his mind wander. Carole returned and when she looked over the back of the couch and saw that both boys were now asleep she left to make dinner alone.

Every few minutes Niall couldn't stop himself from glancing over at them snuggled up together on the couch. He couldn't see Nick's face because it was buried in Mark's shoulder, but the smile on his son's face made his insides feel like melted butter. He'd missed that smile. He had rarely seen it since Elizabeth's passing.

A few hours later Jake stumbled through the front door, sweaty and still in his practice jersey. He spotted Nick and Mark on the couch and looked like he was refraining from rolling his eyes and smiling all at once.

"I told Beiste why he missed class," he said simply as he set down his gear and bag. "Like, not everything, but that he was, like, having a lot of trouble at home."

Niall stared at him in surprise He wouldn't have guessed that they'd shared a class together, nor that Jake would even think to do something like that and make an effort to help Nick in any way.

"You two have a class together?" he asked as Jake stood awkwardly next to him because there was nowhere for him to sit.

He shrugged a little and said, "Yeah, weight lifting. He's like crazy strong, too." He was silent for a moment as he stared over at the couch. "I think she got it," he said quietly. "Beiste, I mean," he clarified at Niall's look. "She's pretty good at picking up on when he's tired and hasn't gotten on him for absences and stuff."

Niall sighed a little and looked at the couch, too. "That's good," he replied. "He needs someone to give him a break."

Carole appeared in the doorway, and smiled when she saw her son. "How was practice?" she asked him.

"Muddy," Jake told her. "I'm gonna shower before I eat."

"Okay, it'll be ready when you come back up."

Jake disappeared down to Mark's room, and Carole moved around to the front of the couch to nudge Mark gently.

"Wake up, honey, dinner's almost ready."

Mark mumbled something Niall couldn't understand and sat up a little bit, rubbing his eyes as Nick latched onto him tighter. Carole moved to help Niall up and over to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, and at a curious look from Carole jerked his head back towards the couch where Mark had slouched back down and fallen asleep again.

"I'll get them up," he told her, kissing her on the cheek and shuffling back over to the couch. He leaned down over the back and shook Mark more forcefully than Carole had.

"Mark, dinner's ready. Come on."

"Hmmm?" Mark murmured, blinking slowly up at him and holding Nick closer.

"Dinner," Niall repeated. "I bet Nick's more than ready for a good meal."

At Nick's name Mark rubbed his eyes again and struggled a bit under Nick's weigh as he sat up. Niall made a move to shake Nick awake as well, but Mark's hand caught his wrist and stopped him.

"I don't want to startle him or anything," Mark said apologetically. He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes again. Niall frowned a little at Mark's words, but he understood. He was nothing if not understanding. He headed back into the kitchen, but paused in the doorway again when he heard Mark's voice rousing Nick awake.

"It's time to wake up, baby," Mark whispered. Nick groaned and slurred out a string of unintelligible words and Mark laughed. "I know you want to sleep, Nick, but I bet your stomach wants to eat something."

Nick's head shot up, his curls just visible over the back of the couch from where Niall was standing.

"I love food," he said seriously as Mark sat up and kissed him softly on the lips. Nick hummed a little and nuzzled his face against Mark's. "I might love kissing you more, though. Can we do that instead?"

Mark's joyful laughter echoed around the room and Niall felt his heart swell in his chest. God, they were so happy together, so in_ love_ it made his chest ache just to watch them. How could the world or anyone ever think what he was watching was something horrific and abominable?

"Maybe later. I'm hungry, too," Mark told him. He leaned in and kissed Nick again, longer this time and more deeply. Nick sighed as they broke away and sat up a little, so that Niall could see him press his forehead against Mark's. When his eyes flickered open there was a look of amazement and wonder there that tore right into Niall's heart. It was like Nick had never imagine anything as incredible as what he was experiencing, like he had never expected anyone to care about him ever again until Mark had popped up and opened him up to a whole world of possibilities.

He couldn't see Mark's face now, but Nick was smiling wider and brighter than he'd thought was possible for the boy. It was the first time he'd seen Nick truly smile – a smile that lit up his eyes and made him actually look like the seventeen year old boy he was. For a moment Niall could see the little boy in that old photograph Carole had shown him – the unsure, scared young man that Mark was so desperate to give his heart to.

Nick was safe at his house for tonight – maybe even for the weekend – but he didn't doubt the boy would return to his apartment again. It was his break from the awkward situation that existed between all the different dynamics present in their house. But, somehow, he would make it safe for Nick to go back there whenever he wanted to. He had to make the first move for this to ever work and he had the perfect idea for how to do that. Niall was surprised by the simplicity that permeated their first Friday night Family Dinner with Nick present. It felt almost normal; oddly normal really, because things had been up and down and all over the place since September to the point where he almost couldn't recall what normal had been for them.

Nick was still half- asleep for most of the meal, so he barely spoke. He kept his eyes downcast and shoveled all the food he could into his mouth like he thought it would disappear if he blinked too many times. Carole had insisted on taking the open spot next to him and between her and Mark his plate was constantly being re- filled. He looked so pitiful and tiny, seated between his son and Carole that Niall didn't even have the heart to try and start a conversation with him. For now he'd let the kid focus on eating his first real meal since Monday morning and maybe attempt a little small talk when they all settled down in the family room to watch whatever Mark decided on tonight.

But that part of his plan didn't work out so well either. Mark and Jake immediately started bickering over whose turn it was this week to pick what they watched together. Jake knew very well that it was supposed to be Mark's turn this week, but with his football schedule he wouldn't be here next Friday night. After ten solid minutes of arguing Nick had slunk down on the couch and was steadily and sleepily watching the debate when Carole finally came to the rescue.

"Jake, it's Mark's turn this week," Carole said diplomatically. "And you won't miss next week or miss a turn. Next Friday Nick can pick the movie."

Both boys froze and turned to where Nick was seated on the right side of the couch. Niall glanced over at him from where Carole and himself were curled up in his favorite chair. Nick's arms were folded tightly against his chest and he was doing his best to make himself go unnoticed. Jake noticed his discomfort immediately and readily agreed.

"That sounds fair," Jake conceded. Mark put _Moulin Rouge_ in the DVD player and dropped onto the couch next to Nick. "You better pick something good, Nick."

Nick just gaped at him, looking stunned at being so quickly included into something that was sacred to them. Jake pouted a bit as he put back the latest Batman movie and dropped down on Mark's other side.

For the next few hours Niall settled into Carole's embrace and watched the boys more than the movie. Even though Mark had seen this particular movie at least a dozen times, he was still endlessly thrilled with the musical numbers and romance. Jake kept up a non- stop stream of grumbles and eye rolls that resulted in Mark telling him he should pay better attention because Sarah adored this movie. But Nick remained as quiet as he had been at dinner, and it was unnerving for Niall because he had prepared himself for hearing Nick make lewd comments and being obnoxious or loud. Niall watched the boy closely, saw the wonder in his eyes as he watched the images flash across the television screen. It reminded Niall of the first time he'd taken Mark to Cedar Point when he'd been fresh out of his first year in elementary school. He would always remember the huge grin that had been glued to Mark's round, freckled little face that afternoon, the way his eyes had blazed with excitement and amazement at all the world held for him to experience.

It hit Niall like a ton of bricks that Nick had never seen this movie – probably hadn't seen any movie in years, let alone in an environment where he was safe and loved. The boy had nothing but them now, and he couldn't even bring himself to allow himself to trust just that little bit, to allow hope.

By the time the end credits started rolling Niall was dozing in his chair and if Carole hadn't shaken him, he knew he would have fallen asleep right there. He glanced back over at the couch, and his stomach gave a funny jolt. Nick was asleep again, his head dropped down onto Mark's shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around Mark's back. Both of his son's arms were around Nick, holding him close, his own head tilted down to rest on top of Nick's curls.

Carole struggled out of the chair and started pulling blankets off the rack in the corner and then shuffled off to Mark's room. He watched her disappear down the stairs, not sure why she was heading down there, but he didn't question it. Carole knew what she was doing much more so than he did around Nick. Jake yawned out a goodnight to them and followed her downstairs.

"Here, let me help," Niall mumbled, getting out of the hole he'd sunk into in his chair and helping Mark lay Nick out on the couch. Mark pulled Nick up towards the opposite side of the couch and laid down as Niall lifted Nick's legs and dropped them where they'd just been sitting.

"Thanks for letting him stay, Dad," Mark whispered as Nick curled up on his chest, one leg swinging over Mark's and pulling him closer.

"I told you he's always welcome and I meant it," Niall reminded him. He glanced down at where their feet were tangled together, eyeing the ratty, beat up Converse on Nick's feet. "Do you want to wake up him so he can put on some pajamas?"

Mark looked worried at the suggestion. "No," he decided, biting his lip. "If we wake him up he might not– might want to– "

Mark swallowed audibly and curled his arms tighter around Nick's torso, nuzzling his nose against the other boy's curls. Niall didn't need to hear to the rest of Mark's unspoken words to know what he was so scared of. He also knew there was absolutely no way he would have let Nick go anywhere at eleven o'clock at night, especially if it meant returning to his apartment complex. They'd all spent more than enough time in the hospital in the past few weeks, and the last thing they needed was Nick ending up there because of something they could prevent.

"Let's get his shoes and jacket off at least, bud," Niall offered, sinking down onto the edge of the couch by their feet and tugging Nick's right foot onto his lap. The first thing he noticed was how much more worn and destroyed his shoes looked up close. The tread was peeling away from the torn, faded fabric of his shoe and the rubber over the toe had been worn so thin it was cracking over his big toe to the point where Niall could see what he was pretty sure was Nick's sock. He traced a finger over the toe almost unconsciously, feeling a bump underneath that he could only assume meant Nick had to curl his toes up because his shoes were several sizes too small. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and tried to ignore the way his chest tightened as he rubbed his thumb on Nick's shoe again. God, how long had it been since anyone had cared about this kid? How long since he'd even had someone to keep him in clothing that fit?

Nick squirmed in Mark's arms as Niall unlaced his shoes and tugged them off. He was relieved when he'd dropped them onto the ground and Nick was still sound asleep and snuggled down into Mark's arms. Carole's footsteps echoed up the stairs and she appeared a moment later with one of Mark's pillows in her arms.

Niall offered a hand to Mark to help pull him up, but Mark shied away from it, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"But I want to stay on the couch with Nick tonight," Mark whined, slouching down further into the cushions and letting Nick practically roll on top of him.

"No," Niall said firmly. "He's gonna be living here before long, by the looks of it, and that means there are going to be ground rules. First rule: you two sleep in your own beds and not together in each other's without my or Carole's permission. Now up."

Mark frowned up at him, but didn't argue as Niall hoisted Nick off of Mark's chest. The boy struggled profusely in his arms, whimpering and groaning until Mark was sitting up enough to pull Nick back into his arms. Nick latched onto him instantly, quieting as he settled against Mark's chest.

"Dad," Mark began, turning big, teary eyes onto him. But Niall knew he had to stand his ground. The sooner they got used to this rule the easier this transition would be.

"No, you're sleeping in your own bed tonight," Niall said firmly. He paused for a moment, his heart aching at how tightly Nick had curled himself around Mark in just the past few seconds, before he added, "_Alone_."

An exaggerated eye roll greeted his words and he sarcastically returned the gesture as Mark huffed in annoyance.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm keeping you two apart or that you can't have time together or whatever, all right?" Niall said, watching Mark as he worked to pull Nick's jacket off his shoulders. "But I'm the parent here. There are going to be rules, bud, and I know you two aren't going to like them, but they're necessary."

"Fine, just fine," Mark mumbled, pushing the worn leather jacket off Nick's arms and draping it over the back of the couch.

Niall nodded a little bit, and sighed heavily. He knew how difficult this was going to be for them, because on top of everything that Nick was and would be struggling with, he was essentially creating a barrier between them. It wasn't much of one, but it was something that Nick would undoubtedly hate even more than Mark would.

Carole wordlessly passed Mark his pillow and with a hard, reluctant tug Mark pulled himself out of Nick's grip and replaced his body with the pillow. Another whimper reached Niall's ears as he watched Nick latch onto it and hold it so close and tightly he looked like he was smothering himself with it.

Mark tangled his fingers into Nick's curls and massaged his scalp gently as he sunk back down into the couch. A little hum of contentment greeted the touch as Carole unfolded two big, fuzzy blankets and draped them over Nick. Mark leaned down and pressed his lips to Nick's cheek as Carole tucked the blankets in around his legs and feet.

"Goodnight," Mark murmured against Nick's cheek. There was a tiny sharp intake of breath as though Mark was steeling himself to say something else before–

"I love you, Nick."

Niall was certain that his heart had imploded in his chest at his son's words. Six weeks. They'd known each other for six weeks and his son – his Mark – was in love. The one thing Mark had been desperate for all of last year, maybe even longer than that, as he'd watched everyone else have a chance he hadn't thought would be his for years. A shaky breath escaped Niall's mouth as he stared down at them, only his vision was blurry and a warm pressure was pushing against his eyes. This was all he'd ever wanted, ever hoped for. That someday Mark would find someone who saw through his hard exterior and got past all the walls he had to build up to survive; that someday Mark would find someone that would love him just as much as he loved him. If Nick _did_ feel as strongly as Mark did... god, he hoped so. He couldn't stand the thought of Mark's heart getting shattered and torn to pieces, and this time would be a million times worse than that crush with Jake had been.

He blinked rapidly a few times and tried to discreetly wipe at his eyes without Carole or Mark noticing. Mark was still too distracted by Nick, but Carole was smiling softly at him, and while she too seemed surprised to by Mark's words, she looked thrilled all the same.

"I'll see you in the morning, Dad," Mark said standing up and hugging him tightly. He did the same for Carole and with a final fond glance at Nick's sleeping form he headed down to his room.

Carole's fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his hand to her lips. "You okay?"

Niall nodded absentmindedly, staring first at his son's bedroom door and then back down at Nick snuggled up under the blankets on the couch. The plan he'd created to make it safer for Nick to return to his apartment whenever he felt the need it could wait until tomorrow or Sunday. He was going to need Mark's help getting the right things anyway since he'd never been to Nick's apartment.

"Yeah," he decided, threading his fingers with hers and letting her pull him towards the staircase leading upstairs. And he was okay, better than okay, really. His strength was returning more and more every day, he had a beautiful, amazing woman who loved him, a second son now that was a terrific kid, Mark was happier than he could ever remember him being, and he had the chance to be something for Nick that the boy had probably never imagined. Okay didn't even begin to cover it.

_He was cold, tired, and hungry. His little feet were sore and numb from trying to keep up with the doctors and his father as they had raced around the hospital. There wasn't even a window in the waiting room he was sitting in, but Nick knew it had to be way past his bedtime. He sniffled a bit and drew his knees up to his chest as he looked around the empty, sterile white room._

_Nobody had come to get him like they'd said they would. He'd been sitting on the same hard plastic chair for hours after his father had been ushered out to wherever it was he'd gone. Nobody had bothered to tell him what was going on, or where his Mamma was and why he couldn't see her. The only thing he knew for certain was that something was terribly, terribly wrong. His fingers brushed over the knees of his jeans, knees that were soaked with his mother's dried blood._

_Nick bit his lips sharply, feeling tears prick his eyes as he remembered his father rushing up the stairs and into the bedroom. His legs had been stiff and sore from kneeling next to his mother for so long, but he hadn't known what else to do, or what was wrong. So he'd taken her hand the same way she'd always done when he scraped his knee or tripped and cut his elbow up and sat there and told her everything was going to be okay. His father had burst into the room with a bright smile and a huge bouquet of her favorite pink roses, only to stumble to a halt and then fall back against the wall in horror._

_A shiver ran up Nick's spine at the memory of that look. He didn't quite know how to explain it, but it was worse than the look on his mother's face when she'd found out her parents had gone to heaven, whatever that was. He wasn't really sure what it meant or why them going somewhere was such a bad thing, but apparently it was. It also meant he couldn't meet them like he was finally suppose to this past Christmas._

_With another glance around the room, Nick wiggled off his seat and wandered out into the hallway to find his Daddy. Maybe his Mamma would be waiting with him and they could all go to the lake like they'd planned._

_There was nobody out there that he knew, though. And he couldn't see up over any of the big desks where all the ladies in their colorful, funny shirts were, to see if he knew one of them from when they'd arrived. He could feel his hands starting to tremble as he wandered a little further and turned down another hallway. Where were his Daddy and Mamma? Why hadn't his Daddy come back after those men with the shiny badges had asked to talk to him?_

_"Sweetheart, are you okay?"_

_He spun around so fast he almost fell, but two strong, soft hands caught him by the shoulders and steadied him on his feet. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes started to fall as the nurse lady dropped down onto her knees in front of him._

_"I- I- I c- can't find my D- Daddy," Nick hiccupped, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to hold back his tears and stop the way his body was shaking._

_"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," the nurse told him soothingly, brushing his floppy curls out of his eyes. "I'll help you find him, okay?"_

_"You– you will?"_

_"Of course," she said, shooting him a kind smile and clasping one of his hands tightly._

_He sniffled a bit, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The woman laughed at him, and rolled her green eyes a bit, but there was an affectionate warmth there that was just like his Mamma's. He attempted a watery smile as she pulled a few tissues out of her pocket._

_"I swear, that must be a little boy thing," she told him as she gently wiped the snot off his sleeve and nose, and brushed his tears away. "My son does the exact same thing ten times a day."_

_She stood up, still gripping his hand tightly as she started down the hall with him. He told her what his Daddy's name was and what he looked like as she walked him around in search. By the time they reached the ground floor he was telling her all about how his Mamma was teaching him to play the piano so he could be as amazing as she was someday and how much he loved music and wanted to play it forever._

_She smiled encouragingly at him as he yawned loudly and wobbled a little on his feet. Before he realized what was happening she bent down and scooped him up in her arms. He didn't mind, though. He dropped his head on her shoulder as they wandered the last few hallways towards the front entrance._

_"I've been trying to learn her favorite song for months and months," he told her. "I've been practicing all the time so I could play and _sing _it to surprise her on Mother's Day."_

_The nurse smiled adoringly at him and shifted his weight onto her hip. "I'm sure she's going to love it, sweetheart. My son's trying to do some sort of drum thing for me."_

_Nick glanced up at her in confusion. How did she already know what her Mother's Day gift was. It was only Friday!_

_"He's never been very good at keeping secrets," she whispered conspiratorially to him._

_He giggled a little in response, but then jerked his head around at the sound of a familiar voice from the other side of the front waiting room they were in. His father was standing by the automatic doors with a doctor and those two men with the shiny badges._

_"Daddy!" he shouted, wiggling down out of the nurse's arms and rushing to his father's side. He attached himself to his father's leg like Velcro and wrapped his arms tightly around it."Where's Mamma? Are we going to the lake now?"_

_"No." His father's voice was quiet and strained as he continued to stare at the spot where the other men he'd been talking to had disappeared. He pulled back from his father's leg and stared up at him. He'd never heard his father sound like that before. He tugged on his Daddy's pants to try and get him to look down, but he didn't. Nick swallowed the lump in his throat as his father started for the door._

_"But what about Mamma?" he asked desperately as he followed after him. "Is she waiting in the car? She's coming too, isn't she?"_

_His father paused in the doorway and sucked in a shaky, rattling breath. "No," he said again and then he headed out the door. Nick glanced back at where the nurse that had helped him had been standing, but she was gone now. The tears started to pool in his eyes as he raced out after his father into the parking lot. Neither of them spoke the entire drive home. Nick cried quietly in the backseat. Why wasn't she coming home? Did she have to stay overnight at the hospital with that nice nurse? When was she coming back? Why wouldn't his Daddy look at him?_

_But by the time they'd pulled into the driveway Nick couldn't stop his questions anymore. His father had gotten out of the car almost as if he was in a trance and hadn't even helped him out of his car seat. He was scared and mad and hungry and tired and he didn't understand anything that had happened at all today._

_He struggled out of his car seat and made it inside just as his father started to ascend the stairs._

_"When's Mamma coming home? Where is she? Daddy, what's– "_

_"She's not coming home, Nick!" his father bellowed. Nick trembled and stepped back in fear because his father had never, _ever_ raised his voice like that before. He'd never shouted so that his voice cracked and wobbled and made Nick want to cry all over again. The empty look swept back over his father's features and Nick shuddered and looked away. That was the same way his mother had looked at him this morning. Had he done something wrong? Maybe this was all a test for him like the ones he had in school. But what they were testing him on, he didn't know. He didn't know why they had both looked at him like they'd never seen him before –like they didn't love him anymore._

_His father disappeared up the stairs, and Nick hugged himself tightly. The sound of a bedroom door slamming closed echoed down to him and he shuffled into the family room and sat at the piano. Surely his father would realize that he hadn't fed him or tucked him in and read him a story. He couldn't sleep without a bedtime story and a kiss goodnight._

_He spun around on the piano bench and tapped out the first few notes to _Hallelujah_. It was the song he'd been practicing for his Mamma for months and months because it was one of her favorites. He still hadn't perfected it yet when he tried to sing along but he was getting really close._

_His fingers fumbled a little over the first verse, but he sang along quietly and kept going, pushing through verse after verse and hoping maybe his father would hear him and come down and take him up to bed and kiss him goodnight like he always did._

"Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you And it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah "

_He fumbled another note as he passed into the final chorus, still singing softly as he played out the final chords. He smiled slightly through his tears, and instinctively spun around expecting to find his father, or even his mother watching him. His face fell as he took in the empty, dim room, and he suddenly felt like he'd been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. She was never going to hear him play that for her, was she?_

_His vision turned blurry as he turned back to the ebony and ivory keys his mother was so fond of. He didn't understand what had happened. First his Mamma wasn't his Mamma anymore and now she was gone and his Daddy was nothing like the man who had tickle fights with him or taught him how to catch a baseball. The tears started falling heavy and fast, and his little legs swung a good foot above the floor as he rocked himself and sobbed._

_A warm, reassuring hand suddenly pressed against his back, the fingers dipping it and rubbing gently against his skin through his thin shirt. He shuffled his feet against the wooden floor– but, wait, weren't his legs too short to reach that?_

_"Shh, don't cry, sweet boy," the person next to him on the bench whispered. "I've got you. You're safe now."_

_He leaned into the other person and blinked a few times only to see that his arms, his legs, everything was grown up and definitely not the body of a six year old boy. A warm hand cupped his cheek and tilted his face up and to the left. Bright blue swirling galaxies stared into his watering eyes before the hand lifted his chin and pulled him forward for a soft kiss._

_"I love you, Nick. No matter what happens, know that I love you..."_

He gasped slightly and coughed, rolling against the back of the couch as he opened his eyes. His cheeks were damp and he could feel himself shaking from the emotions swirling through him. Soft gray light was filtering in around the edges on the blinds on the windows. It took Nick a moment to realize where he was and why he was so warm. Too warm really, he was used to sleeping in a frigid, icy room and waking up to find frost on his heating unit. He kicked the blankets twisted around him off his chest and rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling and breathed in deeply.

He _was_ safe and the thought terrified him. He'd thought he was safe when he was that happy, innocent little boy and then everything had disappeared. Mark's smile flashed bright and beautiful through the haze of memories still clouding his mind. God, everything was so confusing and new. Or maybe it was old, and he'd just forgotten what it really felt like to live.

On a sudden impulse he untangled himself from the blankets completely and stood up. He could never sit still after a dream, a memory like that. He hated remembering how naive and lost he'd been that night. It was only when he was older than he'd learned the entire truth around his mother's death. Even as a little boy he'd understood that she'd been depressed, and he couldn't really blame her when he looked back now. His father was working constantly to please his own father, they were arguing about money and how he didn't want to take any handouts, and then her parents had surprised her with the news that they and her sister were coming over from Italy for Christmas only for the plane to go down somewhere in the Atlantic.

The pills had been to help make his mother happier, to make her act like herself again. But they'd done the opposite. They'd turned her into a terrible mess, and more and more everyday Nick had come home from school and silently listened to her argue with someone who wasn't there – had seen her throw things at someone that wasn't there until it drove her mad. It was only after the autopsy and an investigation that they'd found out the pharmacy had messed up and given her ten times the dosage she was meant to have.

A shiver ran down his spine even though he tried to suppress it, but then the end of his dream came back to him and he hugged himself tightly, dropping back down onto the chair and curling in on himself. Mark was there – was here now, and it was a connection he'd never wanted and nothing like what he'd ever dreamed up for himself. A gentle, kind- hearted boy who would give him an entire new world if he could only remember how to reach out and grasp it.

He looked around the dark room for a moment and his eyes fell on the piano tucked into the corner in the hallway. It'd been a long time since he'd played. Months since he'd fiddled around with one at Dalton, but years since he'd just sat there and poured himself into it. For a moment he hesitated. He had no idea what time it was. Someone might be awake and hear him. The memory of Mark's reassuring touch brushed over his back and before he could think to control the urge he was dropping down on the bench and pushing up the curved wood that hides the keys.

Nick simply stared down at them for a moment, watching the dust swirling through the gray light that was steadily getting brighter around him. Most of his elementary school life had revolved around the piano. Friends had been hard to come by because the entire school had known about his mother's death, and he'd been so angry at his father for everything that had happened after that he'd shut himself off.

His fingers dipped down, pressing gently at a few keys for a moment as he let his mind drift.

"_Hallelujah... "_

The word fell out of his mouth and his fingers started stumbling over the familiar melody before his head had caught up with them. Mindlessly he played through the verse section , smiling nostalgically as he fumbled through the same notes he had that night as a little boy. The night his entire world had changed and he'd lost everything. No amount of trying had ever brought his parents back.

His fingers had stopped and he sat there, staring at his hands, poised and ready over the keys, as he tried to reel his mind in and away from anything his subconscious brought back in his dreams. He'd stopped trying a long time ago, had stopped hoping for something more and had secretly only hoped for what he'd lost. But now he had something more and felt so lost whenever he got close to it he couldn't even remember why he was scared of it.

_"Not ready to let go Cause then I'd never know What I could be missing"_

His fingers and voice had taken control, were taking him to thoughts and places he had avoided and never wanted to visit.

_"But I'm missing way to much so when do I give up what I've been wishing for"_

He was so immersed in what he was playing he didn't hear the creak of a stair behind him as he kept the steady piano rhythm going and let his eyes drift shut. There were notes he was missing and fumbling over from years of not playing, but it couldn't have mattered less. This was everything he was – everything he was terrified of being.

_"I shot for the sky I'm stuck on the ground so why do I try I know I'm gonna fall down I thought I could fly so why did I drown I'll never know why it's coming down, down, down"_

The soft rustling of pajama pants was at the bottom of the staircase now and somewhere in the haze he was lost in he thought he could see his father, red- eyed and distraught, coming down the stairs that night and dropping on the bench the same way Mark had in his dream. Wrapping Nick up in his in arms and making sure he knew that nothing would break them apart; that they were still a family even if they weren't whole anymore.

_" Oh I am going down down down Can't find another way around and I don't wanna hear the sound of losing what I never found"_

His breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, fighting down the tears he could feel building as his fingers trembled and stopped moving over the keys.

"You sound really great, kiddo."

He swung around on the bench, swallowing the gasp that had almost flown out of his mouth and found himself staring up at Niall. The man nodded, either in agreement with his own words or something he hadn't bothered to say, but it unnerved Nick. Mark loved his father more than Nick had thought was possible, but he couldn't even bring himself to say a nice thing to the man in case everything just backfired in his face.

"I– I should go," Nick said hurriedly, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "I've got to– to go to the s- store," he invented wildly. "And um, shave. I need things to shave." He tugged the door open a few inches, but a strong hand pushed it shut again.

"I've got an extra razor up in my bathroom you can use," Niall said gently as Nick stared at the door. He couldn't ever remember being so nervous around someone. For so long he hadn't bothered to care what anyone else thought or needed, but this man meant everything to the boy that was quickly becoming his entire world. How could he still shut himself off and let himself love when these two were part of the same world?

Niall seemed to take his silence as badly as Nick had taken his nodding a few moments ago. "I've been waiting to give it to Mark, you know, if he ever starts shaving."

Nick found himself nodding at the words. "Mark's very... smooth," he conceded, taking a step back from the door that Niall's hand was still flat against.

Niall's eyebrows rose at his words, and Nick almost didn't catch himself before he winced. God, he had no idea what the hell he was doing right now.

Niall cleared his throat a little and said, "I had a different one for him last year, but then Jake started shaving so I taught him... "

Again Nick nodded, biting his lip to stop all the ridiculously horrible things he was so used to saying. He didn't see how it was possible for Niall to like him after the things he'd said about Mark the first time they'd met, but Niall was trying. He was trying for Mark, and if Niall was willing to do this for his son, then Nick wasn't going to let Mark down no matter how many reservations he had.

Niall's hand was tentative as it dropped down onto his shoulder and gently directed him towards the staircase. For a moment the urge to dart from the grasp, to run as far away as possible crashed over Nick like a tsunami, but he forced his legs to move, his knees to bend and climb the stairs behind Niall. The older man's foot stumbled on a step halfway up and before Nick realized he was reacting, his hands were firmly pressing Niall's upper body forward to help him balance again.

"Careful, I don't think Mark will be too happy if you fall over and crush me to death," Nick muttered, feeling cheesy and foolish before the words had fully left his mouth.

A gruff chuckle greeted his words, and it surprised Nick so much he immediately retracted his hands from Niall's back like he'd been shocked. Niall sway a bit and grabbed onto the railing, turning on the step and smiling down at him. At least Nick thought he was smiling, his eyes were twinkling the same way Mark's did, but maybe Mark's eyes sparkled when he was happy and Niall's did before he killed his son's boyfriend.

Nick held in his flinch until Niall had turned back around and started up the stairs again. Niall was such an enigma in his mind. Every fatherly type of figure he'd ever had hadn't amounted to anything worth remembering, and Niall was... different. Frighteningly different compared to his grandfather and the disaster his father had turned into. Slowly he followed after Niall, hesitating when Niall disappeared through a doorway halfway down the hall. He'd never been to this part of Mark's house and had absolutely no idea what room was what, if this was a bathroom or Niall's room, or why they needed so many rooms and doors in the first place. A light flickered on and streamed out into the hallway as Niall stuck his head out and held up a emerald green razor for him to see.

"Hope you like green," Niall offered, dangling the razor in front of him. Nick latched onto it and rolled it over in his hands. It was much nicer than the little, cheap throwaway ones he'd been buying. He stepped into the bathroom as Niall rummaged through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a can of shaving gel. Niall set it on the sink counter and moved aside so he could step up to the sink. Feeling horribly awkward, Nick stared down at the shaving gel and the hand towel draped over the counter. Was Niall going to stand there and watch him or something? Did he think Nick needed guidance on how to do something he'd figured out on his own a year and a half ago?

"Is it common for people to stand over each other like vultures in this house or something?" Nick asked incredulously as he turned the hot water tap on and pulled up the stopper in the sink.

Niall started where he'd been leaning against the wall and shuffled his feet. Nick watched him for a moment, his skin prickling uncomfortably as he popped the plastic cap off the shaving gel and started to squirt some into his hand –

"Hold up," Niall said suddenly, taking the can from his hands and setting it back on the counter.

Stomach twisted in nervous knots, Nick took a step away from him as Niall took the wash cloth of the counter and held it under the hot water pouring out of the faucet.

"I usually only shave after a shower," Niall told him as he wrung the little towel out. "Your skin's warmed up and it makes the shave smoother. But when I don't have the time I take a towel," Niall folded the towel in half and held it up as he continued talking. "And just press it to my face for a few minutes."

Before Nick could react, the towel was pressed softly against the side of his neck. Eyes wide and stunned, he let Niall rub it over his stubble for a few minutes. He'd hated to admit it, but it felt nice. It felt _amazing_ to have someone giving him insight into something so simple. When Niall finally pulled the towel away he felt himself droop a little at the lost of contact. For a moment he could see just what it was that Mark loved so much.

"I take it you know how to do the rest?" Niall grunted, dropping the towel onto the sink again and clasping him on the shoulder.

Surprised once again by the gesture, Nick nodded up at him as his heart gave a funny jerk in his chest. "Yeah, I figured that out a few years ago," he said softly, moving away from the hand on his shoulder to tug his shirt over his head as Niall stepped past him and into the hallway. He didn't have a change of clothes, and he definitely didn't fancy getting shaving gel all over the only shirt he had.

As Nick turned back to the mirror he caught sight of Niall still standing in the doorway, looking alarmed as he stared at Nick's side. His skin crawled under the look, not because Niall was freaking him out any more than usual, but because he knew why that look was there. The scar along his ribs was in perfect view for Niall at this angle. He twisted away to get it out of Niall's line of sight, and tried to ignore the echoes of memories rattling in his head.

"You need anything just holler, kiddo." Niall's gruff voice was soft and almost sad as he nodded at him and disappeared down the hallway.

Nick eyed himself in the mirror, taking in the stubble all over his jaw and throat and the steadily growing mass of curls that was beginning to fall into his eyes. His cheeks were more hollow than they'd been the last time he'd bothered to take a good look at himself in a mirror. His collarbones and muscles were much more pronounced and he knew that this was a combination of not eating enough most days and his weight lifting class. He brushed his thumb over his chest curiously and felt little, soft hairs tug at his skin. It would be just his luck that his chest would want to turn into a fur rug. The red, angry edge of his scar caught his eye, and this time the memory was more distinct.

_His face smacked against the pavement as someone's foot kicked him in the middle of the back. Another foot connected violently with his ribcage over and over again. And then from the far side of the dumpster Nick heard the sickening crack of metal against brick. The other two boys – men, really, since they were seniors – hauled him to his feet and pinned his arms back against the school building._

_"Not so brave now, are you, fag?"_

_He twisted hard to free himself, but then the air was knocked from his lungs and his breath was swallowed back down as he choked for air. The crow bar whistled through the air again as it slammed against his ribcage a second time, and pain seared through his body. Every nerve was screaming as he felt something snap, something break–_

His hands were trembling violently as the memory faded. He gripped the counter hard and leaned on it, trying to ignore the flare of phantom pain along his ribs, and the distant memory of feeling like he was drowning from the inside. After a deep breath he took hold of the shaving gel can, squirted some into his hands, and started lathering it up over his jaw. Memories of some stupid assholes from his eighth grade dance couldn't hurt him anymore, and besides, he'd made sure to return the favor that summer. None of that should matter now, but for some unexplainable reason it still felt like it did. Felt like he'd suppressed it for as long as he could, but now he was feeling things he hadn't felt in years. It was only natural for all of these memories to start flooding back, wasn't it?

Half his face was smooth and clean shaven when Niall appeared at the door again, a towel, a pair of gray, jersey lounge pants, a long- sleeve shirt, and boxers and socks in hand.

"Figured you'd want to have a shower before breakfast," Niall said simply, setting the pile down on the toilet. "Just use the shampoo and shower gel already in there, okay?"

Niall eyed Nick's shaved cheek for a moment and smiled in approval. "Looking sharp, kiddo. Watch out for Mark if he's got scissors, though. I think he's gonna be hell bent on giving you a haircut this weekend."

Alarmed, Nick stared at the Mark's father, who laughed at the stunned look on his face. No doubt he looked incredibly similar to a woodland creature caught in headlights, and he hated that.

"Somehow I don't see you two agreeing on how you'd want to wear your hair," Niall added as he took a few steps towards the door.

Nick shook his head a little and dragged the razor over the sideburn still covered in foam. "Probably not," he mumbled, eyeing where he'd just shaved in the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. "If he bugs me enough maybe I'll show up with a Mohawk on Monday."

This time Niall chuckled loudly and patted him on the shoulder. Something warm bubbled up in the pit of Nick's stomach at the sound and the gesture. It was almost as if... almost as if Niall might actually _like_ him. But that was ridiculous. Niall was doing this because he loved Mark, wanted his son to be happy, not because he cared about Nick... right?

Niall told him that he'd be in the kitchen and left him to finish shaving and to take a shower. Feeling both confused and oddly at ease, Nick finished shaving and hopped into the shower, taking his time and enjoying the spray of warm water that came out of the shower with a pressure that was absent from the cold shower in his apartment. After he hopped out and dried himself off, he picked up the clothes and examined them curiously. They were too small to be Niall's or Jake's, but way too simple to be something that Mark would wear. He'd seen enough of Mark's wardrobe to know that Mark would never be caught dead in something so basic, but maybe they _were_ Mark's and he only wore things like that to sleep in or to walk around the house. He tugged them on quickly and headed back downstairs with his dirty clothes, which he stuffed into his school bag by the front door, and, after a moment's indecision, headed into the kitchen where Niall had said he would be.

Nick was surprised to find that Carole was awake as well. She was just setting a cup of coffee down on the table when she spotted him standing in the doorway. A bright, kind smile was directed at him and – god, why was that so familiar? Carole approached him and kissed him on the cheek and placed her hands on his shoulders. When she brushed back his curls a moment later he was glad she had a good grip on his shoulders because part of his dream – his memory – flashed through his mind again and he swayed.

_"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," the nurse told him soothingly, brushing his floppy curls out of his eyes. "I'll help you find him, okay?"_

"... Nick? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Carole's voice seemed to float to him through a thick fog as the image vanished from his mind. God, there was no way it had been her. It couldn't have been. He looked at her face, trying to hold on to the memory of that gentle nurse. The same green eyes, the warm smile that seemed to expand outwards and envelope him. And Jake was the little drummer son she'd mentioned to him that night. There were a few more worn lines around her eyes and a crease along her forehead, but she was almost exactly the same. Unless his mind had filled her into the role of that nurse. It had been ten years since that night, and she didn't seem to remember him or anything at all. He wasn't important enough to remember.

"I'm fine," Nick said gruffly, eyes darting around to take in Niall's curious look and Carole's worried expression. With a quick shrug he dropped onto one of the barstools at the island and folded his arms on the counter top. Before either of the adults could say anything more, Jake stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy- eyed with hair standing on end, followed closely by Mark in his silky pajamas.

Another dazzling smile was directed at Nick the moment Mark noticed him and, god, this was the most bizarre morning ever. Even Jake gave him a sleepy nod as he sunk into the chair next to Niall. Mark's arms wrapped around his waist from behind and his chin dropped onto Nick's shoulder. Any tension from the few awkward moments that morning melted out of his limbs as he turned his head and accepted Mark's soft kiss.

"So, what's for breakfast?" Mark asked him, pressing another kiss to the curve of his jaw. Nick shivered a little at the soft sensation and almost didn't register Mark's words.

"I don't know." He looked expectantly at Carole and Niall. It seemed strange that Mark was asking _him_ about breakfast when it was his house. But Carole smiled at him again, and he had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat as the nurse popped into his head again.

"It's up to you," Carole informed him, walking around to the opposite side of the counter and resting her elbows on it. "Jake's already had two turns this week. Mark picked on Tuesday, Niall on Wednesday, me on Thursday and Jake again yesterday morning. I'd say it's about time we worked you into the rotation."

"What?" Nick blurted out before he could stop himself. What was it with these people and taking turns? Mark's arms tightened around him slightly as he sat up straighter and pulled away from the warmth. One of Mark's hands rubbed soothingly up and down his side. "M- me? No, you can pick. I'll eat anything, really."

"Oh, come on, Nick," Mark teased. "Don't waste your turn unless you want Jake to pick pancakes for the eighth time in a row."

They were serious. Flabbergasted, Nick gaped first at Mark's adoring smile and then at Carole's hopeful expression.

"What did you always demand to have as a little kid?" Mark murmured into his ear, nuzzling his nose against Nick's neck.

The words made his eyes drift shut and for a moment he was walking into his parents' bedroom on the Friday before Mother's Day, but then the room morphed into their spacious kitchen. His mother and father were at the stove, laughing and talking and twirling each other around as the cooked breakfast like they had done every Saturday morning. He was hoisted up into his mother's arms and handed a big stirring spoon by his father, who wrapped his large hand around Nick's little one and guided it around the big bowl...

"We used to make French toast and pudding every Saturday morning," Nick said quietly as his eyes flickered open. "We'd sit in the living room and watch Saturday morning cartoons while making little French toast and pudding sandwiches."

"Sounds perfect," Carole said delightedly as she spun around and starting pulling out things to make French toast. "Mark you know how to make pudding, right?"

"Um, sort of," Mark replied, looking thoughtful.

"I still remember," Nick spoke up, still watching Carole in amazement as she actually started making what he'd suggested. He wasn't used to being listened to, or having someone appreciate his words.

"You can teach me, then," Mark said excitedly, tugging him off the barstool and towards the refrigerator. Surprised by the movement, Nick didn't resist and after a few seconds of hesitation, he started helping Mark pull out the right ingredients. He couldn't help but laugh with Mark as they made a terrible mess making the pudding. It was almost... fun, and bizarrely calming and _natural_. Niall had shuffled over to the refrigerator, pulled out a container of strawberries, and was sitting in the seat Nick had vacated and eating them. Jake was half- slumped over at the table and drooling on the Sports page.

The whole morning felt incredibly normal to Nick. Sitting down at breakfast and listening to them talk and share little stories about one another as they ate their French toast, pudding, and fruit. By the time Mark dragged him down to his room for a movie marathon, his face hurt from how much smiling he'd been doing and he felt like someone had pumped him full of laughing gas. As they collapsed onto Mark's bed after putting in a movie, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

"Door open, guys!" Niall hollered down at them.

Nick rolled his eyes a little at his words, because if Niall was trying to stop them being intimate then he was way too late for that. He curled up behind Mark and wrapped his arm around Mark's chest as the movie started playing.

"You know," Mark murmured, turning slightly in his arms. "We could at _least_ get away with some making out, if you want."

"Oh, yeah?" Nick returned, feigning disbelief. "I was sort of hoping to watch... "he glanced at the screen for some indication of the movie they'd put in. "Since when do you like Batman?"

Mark rolled over in his arms and slid an arm around his neck. His smile was warm and tender as he traced his finger tip along the curve of Nick's jaw. Nick hummed a little at the touch.

"I'm _incredibly_ fond of Batman, Nick," Mark scolded playfully. "I seem to recall having quite a nice night wearing Batman pajama pants."

"Those pants spent more time on the floor than on you," Nick retorted, tangling his legs with Mark's and leaning in for a slow, lazy kiss.

"Still fond of them," Mark replied with a happy sigh. "And as for the movie, the explosions are impossibly loud meaning– "

"I can tease that spot on your neck for the next two hours without them hearing those breathless, gorgeous little moans you make."

Mark's cheeks flared pink as he pulled back to stare at him, but then a hand slid up under his shirt and Mark's fingers brushed over his ribcage. A loud gasp fell from his lips and he arched his body into Mark's and keened.

"As long as I get to do the same," Mark murmured. "I've been meaning to explore you for a while now."

Nick tilted his head forward and captured Mark's lips in a deep kiss. A teasing tongue swept across his lips a second later and eagerly open his mouth as Mark's tongue dipped inside. It wasn't the most passionate or heated kiss, but somehow the slow sensuality of it made his head spin. Made his heart thrum painfully in his chest and every inch of his skin so sensitive he felt like he was roasting over an open flame. Just the light brush of Mark's fingers over his ribs again made him jolt and have to pull away from the sheer intensity of the touch. He was so overwhelmed by the warmth and acceptance and kindness all around him.

Mark pressed forward and worried Nick's lower lip between his teeth. Nick whimpered again and before he could think, before he could even register that he was talking, he was murmuring against Mark's lips.

"I am so in love with you."

Mark froze against him, his mouth going slack and pulling away from his lips. Nick's eyes flew open, because there was absolutely no way he'd just said what he'd heard himself say. And Mark was gazing at him in shock.

"Shit, I – just– fuck, I was– "

He was instantly silenced by another eager kiss that made him relax back into Mark's embrace and forget that he'd just admitted to his biggest fear, his only real secret – the one that nobody had knowledge of, that nobody could take from him like they could take everything else.

Mark's lips moved softly against his for another moment before pulling away. Hot breath ghosted over his face and Mark's forehead pressed against his, but Nick kept his eyes closed and waited for whatever horrible thing was bound to happen next.

"I love you, Nick."

And he knew the expected response to those words; had uttered it a hundred times as a child, but now he'd almost forgotten how to form the words. Forgotten the rush of heat to his chest, the feeling of being swallowed up by something bigger than himself and Mark and the entire world as a whole. It had been years since anyway had told him that, been so long he'd almost forgotten such a thing existed.

The pressure built behind his eyes as Nick took a shaky breath and looked into Mark's eyes. For the first time, he let himself look and not put up the blinders and the walls and saw what he'd been hiding from for weeks – saw the incredible, simple, beauty that Mark felt for him shining bright and whole for him to see and return. He took a split second to wait for the familiar urge to run to wash over him, to force him up out of Mark's arms and out into the cold, windy streets of Lima. But it didn't come, his heart just swelled more in his chest the longer he looked at Mark until he knew if he tried to hold it in anymore he'd burst at the seams.

"I love you, too."

Mark's grin was bigger and more carefree than he'd ever seen it as he leaned forward and kissed him again. Nick smiled into the kiss and sunk deeper into Mark's embrace. His wildest fantasies had never conjured up the reality he was slowly letting himself fall into, and while part of him still thought that it was all too good to last, he wasn't going to let himself waste a minute of it anymore. Mark was worth so much more to him than that. Mark couldn't help but feel disappointed when Nick left late Saturday afternoon. The decision hadn't been a terrible surprise to him, but he'd been dreading it all the same. Having Nick there bonding with his family, and safe for the past twenty- four hours, had been incredible for him, but Mark knew it had to be overwhelming for Nick. It hadn't stopped Mark from making an attempt to convince Nick to stay another night, of course. But the offer for a free haircut had only made Nick launch into a list of various things he needed to do on Sunday, including laundry and a job interview. The thought of Nick spending another night in that ransacked apartment made his blood run cold, but he didn't want to push – couldn't stand the idea of Nick permanently residing there again because of his own impatience– so Mark reluctantly let him go.

Nick had changed back into his dirty clothes, left the ones Carole had bought him on Mark's bed, tugged on his sneakers and backpack, and had allowed Carole to pull him into a tight embrace on the threshold. The fact that Nick had only hesitated for a fraction of a second before returning the gesture gave Mark hope. This was going to work out somehow. Even his father's shoulder pat had been greeted with a small, appreciative nod. It was his own hug that Nick dove into, squeezing him tight until Mark felt like his ribs were being crushed by a trash compactor. The light pressure of Nick's lips against his had been brief, but the mumbled, "I love you" that had followed had made his heart explode like a supernova. It felt like he'd been waiting forever to be able to freely say those words to Nick and to have them said in return with the same amount of conviction.

Mark had promised to be over early in the morning for a breakfast date, hopefully when Nick had good news from his interview, and then they would spend the afternoon together.

The following morning, however, Mark was awoken much earlier than he'd anticipated. Someone shook him awake roughly, and when he groaned and rolled over, the numbers on his alarm clock told him it was just after seven.

"Dad?" Mark muttered weakly, staring up blurry-eyed up at his father's distinct form hovering above him.

"Come on, bud," Niall said. "I need your help with something important this morning."

"But I've got a d– "

"It's for Nick," Niall added, tugging him into a sitting position. "For his apartment. You can go on your date after."

Baffled by his father's words, but completely intrigued, Mark untangled himself from his blankets and slowly made his way into the bathroom.

"Be quick," Niall called after him. "We've got a lot to do."

As Mark scuffled over to the shower, part of what his father had said repeated itself in his head. Date. His date with Nick. He felt a pleasant heat flare across his cheeks and smiled giddily. Perhaps they'd gone about their relationship a little oddly, a little backwards even, but he could finally say for sure that him and Nick going out together meant it was an actual date. The thought woke him up quickly and he wasted no time getting ready. Between how happy he was, his own curiosity and desire to see Nick as soon as possible, he was in and out in half an hour. He skipped his moisturizing routine for the morning and took a rushed shower before racing upstairs and following his father outside to his Navigator. When his father directed him to drive them to the hardware store across town Mark was even more confused than he had been before. Was his father going to build Nick a... a what? Perhaps Niall would buy Nick a nail gun so he could shoot at the assholes that always harassed him.

As Mark pulled into the almost empty lot, Niall pulled a list from his pocket and got out without saying a word to him. Mark followed doggedly after him, happy to see his father's normal strolling pace again, but still dying to ask why exactly they needed to be here when the store first opened.

"I'm going to need you to pick this stuff out," Niall told him, stopping at the end of one of the aisles to allow Mark to catch up with him. Mark paused next to him and glanced dubiously down the aisle his father was pointing toward. There wasn't a nail gun in sight. "It doesn't have to be exact, but at least the same size and shape for the part that attaches to the door so we don't have to drill a bigger hole... "

Something hard seemed to have become lodged in Mark's throat as he took a few steps down the aisle and stared around at the vast selection of locks and doorknobs.

"I figure we can get him a couple more for when he's there," Niall said, eyeing a few chain latches.

"That's..." Mark paused and sucked in a deep breath as he tried not to let his emotions get the better of him. "It's a fantastic idea, Dad," he said gratefully as he pulled his father into a tight hug. "You're too amazing for your own good sometimes."

Niall laughed softly at Mark's words and steered him down the aisle. It took him almost twenty minutes before he found one that he thought was the perfect replacement for Nick's busted doorknob and also wasn't a gaudy shade of gold. They grabbed the kit that came with it and picked out four more little locks. Mark started to make a beeline for the registers, but his father surprised him once more by steering him past them to the far side of the store and to the outdoor and lawn section.

"Dad, Nick doesn't have a yard," Mark deadpanned as he was dragged past a huge shed and then a row of lawn mowers.

"I know that," Niall said, and even though Mark couldn't see his face from this angle he knew his father was rolling his eyes. He was content to spend the entirety of this unexpected shopping trip feeling comfortably naive if it all benefited Nick in some way. Niall stopped at the next section and pointed up at the tarps. "Jake kept going on and on about how he'd taped comic book pages to his window. I can't really get curtains without the right dimensions, but I figured we could hang that over the window instead."

"Oh," Mark said softly. It was something he would have never thought off. Replacing the curtains had crossed his mind, but the interior designer part of his brain would have _never_ allowed a tarp to decorate the walls.

"How big would you say his window is?"

Mark thought for a moment, trying to picture Nick's little ransacked bedroom. He hadn't been back there since they'd come back to find the room torn apart. The slur painted on the wall flashed through his mind as he turned back to his dad.

"That one should work," Mark told him, pointing to a dark green one hanging on display. He watched his father grab one of the packaged ones and head back towards the front. "Dad?" he called after him.

His father spun around on the spot, and something about his voice must have given away how upset he was by the memories.

"What's wrong, Mark?" Niall asked gently, coming back over to him.

"Do you think we could get, like, one of those sample paint cans and a brush?" Mark asked hopefully, folding his arms and bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

Niall's face scrunched up at his words, and Mark swallowed thickly as he realized he hadn't mentioned this part to his father because it would make him furious.

"When they broke in," Mark began, staring at one of the lawn mowers next to them instead of his father's worried face. He paused and dropped his voice, "They spray painted 'faggot' on his wall over the bed."

Niall's expression was stony, but Mark could see the fire blazing in those green eyes. Mark rolled his shoulders and looked back over to the lawn mower. He hated telling his father things like this. Hated making him worry or feel guilty or reminding him of what the world wouldn't allow itself to understand right now.

"What color do you want to get?"

Mark smiled slightly and debated with himself for a moment. "Something bright," he answered as he dragged Niall over to the paint section by his coat sleeve.

After Mark had picked out a nice, pale yellow to cover the word up they piled their bags up on top of the pillows, tool kit, blankets, and Nick's new pajamas that Mark didn't remember leaving on his backseat. Apparently Niall had been up much earlier than himself this morning and had put the time to good use. However, the nice gesture towards his boyfriend's well being still didn't stop him from scolding his father the whole way to Nick's apartment.

"You can't push yourself too much, Dad. It'll send you right back to the hospital," Mark exclaimed in exasperation.

"Mark," his dad cut in sharply and Mark snapped his mouth shut as he turned into the parking lot of Nick's building. "I am _fine_. It was a big scare, I know. But I am going to do my absolute best to make sure that _never_ happens again. Just walking around the house and out to your car isn't going to make me relapse."

"I– sorry, I just– "

"Worry," Niall interjected with a resigned sigh. "You shouldn't have to, Mark. Neither of us should have to worry about each other that way."

Mark pulled up to Nick's front door and killed the engine. His father unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, motioning for Mark to pop the trunk. With a small nod, Mark pulled the little handle for the trunk release by his feet, climbed out of the car, and approached Nick's door. Part of him was ridiculously hopeful that Nick would answer the door and be here for this – could take part in making his apartment even just a fraction safer than it was now – but another part of him was hoping he wasn't. That Nick was still at his job interview and he'd come back to a great surprise. He rapped his knuckles on the door, and it creaked open a few inches. The wind blew and pushed it the rest of the way open. He felt his father's hand drop on his shoulder as he stepped inside.

"This is... it?" Niall said quietly and Mark nodded, looking around at how much everything had changed since it'd been destroyed.

Like Jake had told his father, the window was covered in comic book pages. He took a moment to read a few word bubbles, and then glanced at the rest of the room. One of the curtains was bundled up on the bed in a heap by the pillow he'd given Nick. The dresser was now a hollow frame covered in taco and burger wrappers. The broken boards from the drawers were stacked up at the end by the door. Mark circled around the bed, pulling open the mini- fridge to find that it at least still worked. The acoustic guitar was gone, along with Nick's skateboard, backpack, and the usual pile of dirty clothes.

"He must still be at his interview or doing laundry," Mark deduced, giving the night- stand a little shake to see how sturdy the stack of comics and books holding it up was. It barely budged from its spot, and Mark nodded a little to himself. Nick was nothing if not resourceful with the little bit he had.

A few pieces of paper fluttered down past his head and Mark looked up to see his father ripping notebook paper off the wall to reveal the graffiti. The red letters were no longer shining wetly on the wall, but they were still just as glaringly bright and eye catching as before.

"You paint over this and I'll hang the tarp," Niall decided, bending down to pry the paint lid off and toss Mark the brush.

Mark set to work quickly, painting a large yellow rectangle over the word while his dad hung the tarp and then started to remove the busted doorknob. When he was done painting he went out and got the pillows, pajamas, and blankets from the car and took his time straightening the bed out and making it look neat. After that he sat on the edge of the dresser and watched his father as he fit the new doorknob, keeping an eye out for Nick through the open doorway.

They had just finished screwing in the other little locks and were getting ready to test the doorknob when Mark heard loud catcalls and laughter from the street. He stiffened and closed the, hopefully now locked, door behind himself and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was certain one of those laughs was familiar to him, and it made his stomach knot up with nerves because that meant the men who had destroyed Nick's room were heading their way. That they were laughing and so Perfroming Artsful sounding only worried him more.

Niall had turned in the same direction, staring out towards the turn in for the parking lot, the keys for the lock jingling softly in his hand.

"What's all that noise about?" he asked Mark, but Mark didn't even have to answer. Right then Nick wheeled his way into the parking lot on his skateboard, backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Hey, come on, faggot! Wait up so we can do some more remodelling!"

Nick shifted his feet and kicked off from the ground again. Mark's heart plummeted as two of the guys turned the corner. Thankfully, the other half of the group didn't seem to be present today, but it didn't do much to settle his unease. He didn't think Nick had even noticed them standing outside his room.

"Maybe you should call that little bitch you've been fucking," one of the men sneered. "We could use his... expertise."

Nick's foot dropped as soon as the swear left the man's mouth. Niall lurched forward next to him, but Mark held him back. The last thing Niall needed was to pick a fight when his heart was just beginning to heal. But holding his father back also prevented him from stopping Nick, and he'd be willing to bet if he called out to him the two men would head straight for him and his father.

A sharp whack against the pavement made him jump and he watched as Nick's skateboard popped up. Nick moved quickly, catching the board as he turned and grabbed it by one of the trunks as he spun and swung it out. It smacked the man who had spoken across the nose and the other in the neck. They both stumbled backwards with pained shouts as Nick pulled out his pocket knife.

His father struggled against his hold again.

"Mark, let me go!" Niall snarled and even though Mark knew the anger in his voice was directed at the trio of men, it still made him flinch.

The two men heard Niall's angry words, and the sight of his enraged father seemed to unnerve them even more.

"Piss off," Nick growled, swiping his knife through the air between them. He didn't move at all to acknowledge them standing a few feet behind him until the men slowly started to trudge their way back across the lot.

Nick waited a few seconds before pocketing his knife and turning back towards them and heading over. Mark dropped his father's arm and made to rush towards him, but Nick ducked down and scooped up the busted doorknob and threw it across the lot, hitting one of the men in the back of the head.

The man stumbled forward into his buddy and turned to either run back across the lot at Nick or shout something, but he didn't do any of those things. Mark followed the man's line of vision and took in his father's livid expression. Nick flicked the men off as they glared at them.

"This isn't over, you fucking fag!"

They left the lot quickly after those parting words, clearly thinking Niall would come after them if they hung around too long.

"Dad," Mark said worriedly, rubbing his father's shoulders and trying to get him to calm down. "Relax, please. This isn't good for your heart. You're sick, remember?"

Niall continued to breathe heavily as Nick turned back to them. Mark tried to smile at him, and even with what had just occurred it wasn't hard, because, god, he'd missed Nick. It had only been sixteen hours and his chest and stomach were aching as if he'd reached inside his ribcage and torn his insides out. He really hoped it wouldn't be much longer before Nick was with them all the time. Then he could pull Nick into his arms at any given moment and lose himself, could know that as long as Nick's chest was rising and fall against his own that he was safe. He didn't know how much more worry and fear his father's heart or his own could take.

Nick's face was set in a deep, unwelcoming frown as he looked them over, and Mark felt his stomach drop like a bowling ball onto the floor. Nick had been so reluctant to say goodbye yesterday, and now he seemed... annoyed with him. Or maybe it was the situation he'd just been in. He hoped it was the latter.

"Nick– "

"You shouldn't be here," Nick snapped, shoving past him towards his door. "Go home."

Nick's hand took hold of the doorknob and pushed. The door didn't budge. Nick froze, staring down at the handle as he jiggled it and tried to turn it. Mark let go of his father again and pulled one of the keys from his hand.

"Here," he said softly, prying Nick's tight grip off the doorknob and placing the little key in his hand.

"You– him and–" Nick's entire frame was shaking as he stopped talking and bit his lip.

Mark knew that look by now, and slid his arm around Nick's waist and kissed his cheek. He hated how shocked and amazed Nick was whenever any of them showed him an ounce of kindness. It wasn't right that Nick expected nothing but hatred and indifference from the world. Mark only wished there was an easier, simpler way to make Nick see how much love they all wanted to give him.

"Open it," Mark encouraged. Nick swallowed loudly and let Mark take his wrist and guide his hand back to the doorknob. Smiling slightly, Mark watched Nick's trembling hand fit the key into the lock and twist it. The lock clicked and Nick remained frozen against his side for so long that Mark looked over at him. His eyes were bright, and shining with unshed tears, and Mark could see how much this meant to him. Something as simple as a new lock for his apartment sent Nick into an incredulous, downward spiral that he didn't understand or know how to get himself out of yet.

Nick swallowed thickly again, his body trembling as he muttered, "I feel like I should make a terrible metaphor about the key to your lock right now, but I– why? Just... _why_?"

"Because we care and we want you to be safe no matter where you are," Niall said from behind them. He handed Nick the other key, and Nick stared down at it. "You can keep the extra one in your locker at school or something."

"N- no," Nick stammered, and Mark couldn't stop himself from smiling when Nick looked up at him, still as amazed and flabbergasted as ever, but there was a brightness to his eyes that made his heart swell; made him feel like he could run a marathon or fly or jump right on stage to fill in for a Broadway role he'd never read the script for. The second key was slid into his palm, and Nick closed his fingers over it. "I... I want you to have it."

"Okay," Mark replied softly, brushing a thumb over Nick's cheek as his own heart pounded in his chest. He'd expected Nick to do what Niall had just suggested in case he locked himself out, or even to keep it somewhere else in case he locked himself out. But for him to trust Mark with it, to give him the only thing he had to trust anyone with was huge. That level of trust, from a boy who had nothing, would have overwhelmed him a few weeks ago, but that same boy meant everything to him now – that trust was something he craved and wanted to hold in his chest for safe keeping for as long as Nick would let him. "We did some redecorating inside, too," Mark added as he pushed the door open. "It isn't much, but... "

Nick stepped inside and his mouth fell open a tiny bit as he looked at the tarp over the window, the drying paint, and the extra pillows and blankets and the pajamas he'd been given to wear around the house yesterday.

"This is... ," Nick turned to him as he stepped through the door after him. Mark felt his father follow him and close the door. Two hands reached up and cupped his face and Nick's forehead was suddenly pressed against his own. "This means... so much. You don't have any idea... "

"I think I might," Mark told him. "You were there for me in a way nobody else was when my dad was in the hospital. It's kind of like that, I think." Before Nick could say anything else Mark pulled him into a warm, loving kiss.

"Thank you," Nick breathed against his lips as he pulled back. "I know I don't say it enough, I just– "

"It was my dad's idea," Mark told him, pulling back a bit more so that Nick could see his father standing behind him. Mark could see how bright Nick's eyes were becoming with unshed tears, but Niall just motioned Nick forward, and showed him the other locks they'd installed.

"You're..." Nick started, staring up at Niall as he slid the last little lock closed. "Um... t- thank you." Nick's voice trembled as he stared hard at the chain lock and tugged it back and forth experimentally.

"I know you aren't completely comfortable at our house," Niall said gruffly. "When you're here I want you to be able to relax and be at ease as much as you are when you're there." Niall bent down slightly and turned Nick by the shoulders. "You are _always_ welcome with us. You will _always _be safe and loved there. I know it's all overwhelming and muddled right now, but I will _never_ turn you away or shut you out," Niall continued and Mark could see the tears starting to build in Nick's eyes as his own started to fall. "You always have a home with us, Nick, and we will give you as long as you need to be comfortable with that."

Nick drew in a shaky breath and turned away from Niall, dragging a hand through his curls as he tried to hold in his tears. Mark took a step forward to pull him into a hug, but Nick let out a shaky, quiet laugh and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I think I can see why you and Carole are so good together."

Niall chuckled as he undid all of the locks before pulling the door open. "We've got to get back home," he said, waving Mark over to him, and Mark hesitated to follow him. He really didn't want to leave yet. "If you want to come over today you're more than welcome."

Mark watched his father step outside and then turn back to him expectantly. Mark wrapped Nick in a tight hug, and pulled back slowly, reluctant to let go when he'd only just gotten here, but his father was starting to look tired and he couldn't drive himself home. "I'll be back a little later?" Mark said uncertainly. "Can we do lunch instead?"

Nick stared at him in wonder, and then shook his head. "No," he said softly and Mark's heart almost shattered at the words, but then he continued, "Give me a minute. I'll go with you guys."

Nick took off his backpack, tossed his skateboard into the corner, and started pulling a bunch of clothes out of his bag. He took the pajamas lying on the bed, and held them up to Mark. "I never pictured you wearing something like this."

Now Mark was confused, because Carole had bought those for Nick a few days ago. He would never be caught death in something like that... well, maybe if he'd just stripped them off of Nick and put them on himself, but...

"Those aren't mine," Mark told him. "Carole bought them for you."

Nick started at his words, his hand pausing as he riffled through the handful of shirts and the two pairs of jeans he'd just piled onto his bed. "Oh," Nick mumbled simply, pulling one of the shirts and jeans out of the little pile and stuffing them back into his bag.

"You left your razor as well," Niall added from the doorway. "You ready, then?"

Nick zipped up his bag and nodded stiffly, looking suddenly uncertain at all the mentions of his new possessions. Mark looped his arm through one of Nick's and tugged him outside, stopping to let Nick lock the door before they piled into his Navigator.

Mark drove them back home, and Niall passed out on the couch ten minutes after they'd walked through the front door. Nick stood awkwardly next to the door until Mark dragged him into the kitchen and made him help with lunch. He didn't have anything fancy in mind, just a salad for each of them and some sandwiches for Jake and Nick, who would both need a salad bowl the size of his Navigator to fill them up.

Everyone was rushing around to eat. Jake wolfed his food down quickly and then left for a last minute football practice. Carole took hers to the kitchen table with her as she looked through the grocery sale ads. Mark took his father's out to the family room and left it on the table for him, and then went back for his own and Nick's. After Carole gave him the okay, they headed downstairs to his room to eat and relax.

Nick settled down on the bed next to him and started on the huge stack of sandwiches Mark had made him. His face scrunched up after the first bite, and Mark stared at him.

"What?"

"This meat tastes like plastic," Nick informed him, making a big show of swallowing the mouthful of meat and cheese.

"It does not," Mark retorted with a huff. "It's _vegan_."

"It's _crap_," Nick replied bluntly.

"Boys!" Carole's voice echoed down the stairs to them. "Me and your father are going to the grocery store. Do you two want anything?"

"Real meat!" Nick hollered before Mark could smack a hand over his mouth. He couldn't stop the way his heart fluttered at the ease with which Nick had shouted out that reply.

"Oh my god, you are _just_ like Jake," Mark said in disgust as Carole started laughing and descending the stairs.

She stopped on the landing and smiled at them. "It tastes like plastic, doesn't it?"

Nick nodded vigorously next to him and Mark glared at them both. "It does _not_," he insisted vehemently.

"I'll make sure we pick some up, Nick," Carole assured him. "Anything else?"

"No," Mark said, and Nick agreed quickly.

"We'll be back in a few hours," Carole called as she headed back upstairs. Mark was surprised to hear the door snap shut, but also thrilled. He missed having the chance to be alone with Nick whenever they wanted to be. He settled down and finished the rest of his salad, watching Nick out of the corner of his eye and waiting for the sound of the front door to slam shut upstairs. He heard the door close as he set his own empty bowl aside, watching the way Nick's jaw moved and his Adam's apple bobbed, and god, he'd missed kissing Nick's skin, and touching his chest, or feeling Nick move inside him...

Nick stood up with his empty plates and started towards the stairs, clearly planning on taking his dishes upstairs.

"Leave those for later," Mark told him hurriedly, latching onto Nick's shirt and pulling him back towards the bed. The dishes were set on the night- stand as Nick stumbled forward.

"Wh– oh," Nick hummed as Mark wrapped his arms around his waist and started sucking on his neck. "Finally learned the art of seduction, have you, Sheme?"

Mark pulled his lips back and licked a path up to Nick's jaw, grabbing the hem of Nick's shirt and starting to pull at it until Nick raised his arms. As Nick's shirt hit the floor he kneeled down on the bed and attached his lips to Mark's.

"I love undressing you," Mark muttered, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops on Nick's jeans. His sweater was popped open as he spoke and Nick was suddenly pressed against him, forcing him backwards into the pillows. They kissed slowly for a few minutes, softly moving their lips together as they re- familiarized themselves with each other's mouths. Mark could feel Nick shivering against him wantonly as he ran his hands over the other boy's broad shoulders and sides, and felt himself hardening against the tight fabric of his pants.

"Please, tell me you have lube," Nick gasped against his lips, rolling his hips against Mark's thigh and Mark groaned and arched up into the hard- on rubbing against him through the thick material of their jeans. God, he was so glad he'd decided to go out and buy lube and condoms after Monday morning. It may have been embarrassing, but there was absolutely no way he could have said no right now.

"Top drawer," Mark breathed as Nick rolled off of him and fumbled around the drawer. Quickly, Mark tugged his unbuttoned sweater off and pulled the shirt underneath up and over his head, tossing it to the floor with Nick's shirt as he rolled onto his side to face Nick.

Nick rolled back onto his side with the bottle of lube and two boxes of condoms in hand. "Got a little eager with the condom buying, I see," Nick intoned lightly, shuffling closer until their chests touched. They both groaned, their hips jerking forward until they were grinding against each other.

Mark sighed and arched his body forward, securely winding his arm around Nick's chest, and sliding the other hand over Nick's pectorals. He nipped lightly at Nick's chin as he traced his hands over the firm muscles and murmured, "I wasn't sure what size we both needed."

Nick gasped breathlessly and whined in the back of his throat as Mark tilted his head and started sucking gently on his jaw. "Mark, _yes,_" he moaned, and Mark groaned in reply as Nick's hips surged forward to rut against him harder.

Mark's hand trailed down Nick's back and he dipped his thumb under the waistband of his underwear and rubbed softly along the top of Nick's ass. The loud keen was all the encouragement Mark needed to shove the rest of his hand in and grab onto Nick's ass cheek. Nick's back arched, his ass pressing back into Mark's hand and his heaving chest rubbing roughly against his own.

Nick's mouth sought out his own, and Mark's body jerked as his lower lip was sucked into Nick's mouth and nibbled on. A pair of arms looped around his neck as he pulled his mouth away from Nick's and went back to kissing over his neck and jaw, his cock throbbing painfully at the breathless little pants his touches were drawing out of Nick's mouth. He rolled Nick's ass cheek in his hand firmly, and it only made his cock ache more – made him want what he hadn't yet experienced.

"Fuck, touch me, Mark," Nick demanded, pushing his ass back against Mark's hand more. The movement made Mark freeze, his heavy breaths catching in his chest. He didn't need more specific instructions to understand what Nick meant, to know that Nick wanted him to stretch him, to open him, and slide inside him and make him feel as incredible as he'd made Mark feel. But he'd never done this before – have never been on the other side of this. He didn't know how to finger anyone. He hadn't even had the chance to do it to himself yet. What if he did it wrong?

Nick's arms were tight around his chest, rubbing over his skin and pulling him closer as they breathed against each other's lips. Those hazel- green eyes flickered open at Mark's sudden lack of movement and Mark met his gaze. Everything seemed to somehow change in that second, the entire tone and mood went from desperate and needy to something he couldn't describe properly. It was a feeling he'd never experienced, but it slowed him down and made every brush of Nick's skin against his feel like an electric shock a thousand times more intimate than anything they'd done before.

"Please," Nick reiterated softly, pressing a light, lingering kiss to Mark's lips. "Touch me."

"I- I don't know how," Mark stuttered as Nick pulled his hand from his pants and laced their fingers together. "I've never done... "

He trailed off and something in Nick's face made him pause instead of fumbling for the bottle of lube between them. There was a nervousness in Nick's eyes that made his heart pound faster.

"Neither... neither have I," Nick admitted quietly. Mark sucked in a deep breath, and pressed his forehead to Nick's. Nick's admission had caught him off guard, but he wasn't entirely clear on what it meant either. There were countless memories of Nick's talking about fingering himself whipping around in his head.

"I thought you... fingered yourself," Mark said uncertainly.

"I do, but I," Nick bit his lip and took a deep, steadying breath. "I've never let anyone– never trusted anyone enough... "

Surprise and understanding flooded through Mark's brain as the words left Nick's mouth. He'd never expected that, but somehow it made sense to him as well. The way Nick had always talked, the way he'd said he'd wished he'd had Mark inside of him last week, had all made him certain that Nick had bottomed before. But Nick hadn't remotely trusted anyone in years. Not until he'd met Mark and unintentionally let him into his heart.

Mark could see his own uncertainty reflected back at him in Nick's eyes as he tilted his head forward and pulled Nick in for a warm kiss. "Are you... are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. Whether the hesitation was for himself or Nick's uncertainty he didn't know.

"I want you," Nick murmured in reply.

"Okay," Mark breathed as Nick let go of his hand and reached behind himself. With a few quick tugs Mark pushed Nick's jeans and underwear down and then pulled them from around his ankles. Nick remained on his side facing Mark, and Mark dropped back to the spot he'd just vacated, moaning deeply as Nick's right leg slid over his thigh and pulled his body close again. The wet head of Nick's cock brushed against his navel as his hand was lifted up and his fingers were slicked up with a cold, thick liquid.

His fingers slid in and out of Nick's fist, the lube warming up between their hands as Nick nuzzled his nose against Mark's before moving Mark's hand back around to his ass. Nick wiped the rest of the lube onto his side and then tangled his fist into Mark's hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Mark was barely able to focus on the feeling of Nick's tongue slipping into his mouth or massaging his own tongue as he hesitantly slid his fingers down between the halves of Nick's ass. A breathless gasp brushed over his lips as he dragged his finger along the dip, finally pushing against the Samered skin.

"Please," Nick whispered. "I want you, Mark. Only you."

Nick drew Mark in for another kiss, longer and reassuring as he rubbed over his entrance, and then slowly pushed in. The hitch of Nick's breath and the way he immediately drew his mouth back and tensed made Mark stop and start to panic. The other boy's mouth had fallen open, his eyes still closed, but the expression on his face was one Mark was familiar with. The look of ecstasy and spine- tingling pleasure made Mark thrust his hips forward on impulse. Slowly, he eased his finger out, groaning at the pull of the hot, clenching muscles – the feeling of Nick surrounding just one small part of him – and pushed back in up to the first knuckle. Nick's hips bucked against his, and he moaned softly.

"That's okay?" Mark asked him, slowly pulling his finger out again and sliding it back in. Nick groaned louder and slammed his mouth against Mark's, swallowing his surprised gasp as Nick started rocking his hips.

"Fantastic," Nick managed to say between panting breaths. "Move."

Mark nodded, letting Nick drop his head back onto the pillows and moan as he started thrusting his finger in as deeply as he could and then all the way out of him. The leg hooked over his thighs tightened its grip and started pressing him forward as Nick rolled his hips.

"Mark, m– " Nick panted, breaking off to moan loudly, his arms wrapping tightly around Mark's neck and Mark suddenly found his face nestled against Nick's neck. "More."

As soon as Nick said it, Mark pushed a second finger inside next to the first. He stopped then, mesmerized by the hot clench of the ring of muscles around his fingers and the way Nick arched and moaned. He'd never imagined he'd see Nick falling apart so beautifully like this. That he would be the cause of it, or that Nick would ever completely trust him and let him in this way.

"Shh, baby," Mark mumbled kissing his neck softly as he started to thrust his fingers again. "Let me make you feel good."

He crooked his fingers on the next thrust, and Nick keened, his breaths coming faster and shorter, but Mark knew he hadn't found what he was looking for that time. He did the same thing again, arching his fingers the opposite way towards Nick's front and this time he found it. Nick cried out, and clinched tightly around his fingers, his hips snapping forward.

"Fuck," he swore as Mark rubbed over his prostate slowly. "That feels so much better when you do it."

A high- pitched whine broke through Nick's lips as Mark kept massaging his fingers over Nick's prostate and started to suck softly on his neck again. Mark felt Nick's hands untangle from around his neck and drop to his waistband and start fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. He whimpered as his jeans moved over his erection, squirming to try and help Nick remove the offending article of clothing. His jeans were forced over his erection and down his hips, his boxer- briefs catching on his cock and making him moan as it sprung free, his cock brushing against Nick's.

Nick twisted his torso a little more and found one of the boxes of condoms he'd dropped on the bed and worked on opening it. Mark could see it was taking all of Nick's energy to focus on ripping it open with him thrusting his fingers into him and his tongue licking over his neck. He slid a third finger inside and Nick shouted in surprise as he finally got the box open and pulled one of the condom packets out.

Mark hummed against Nick's neck as Nick started to fall apart again, his eyes drifting shut as he moved with the motion of Mark's fingers inside him.

"Mark, I'm gonna– if you don't stop– "Nick warned him. Mark stilled his fingers, feeling Nick's muscles relax around them as Nick tore the condom open. And this was the part Mark had been desperate for and had been dreading. He wanted this to be as good for Nick as it had been for him their first time together. What if he didn't move right or hurt Nick?

The condom was rolled down his cock and Nick started to coat him with lube, pressing soft kisses to the corners of his mouth and chin. The weight of Nick's leg hooked over his thighs disappeared as he pulled Mark's fingers out of him, rolled onto his back, and pulled Mark with him. Mark held himself up, watching as Nick pushed his jeans and boxer- briefs down his hips and he kicked them the rest of the way off on instinct. What if he was terrible at this?

Nick propped himself up on his elbows, spreading his legs wide and tugging Mark down until he was settled between them. His cock rubbed against Nick's again and he moaned into the kiss Nick pulled him into, his body relaxing at the soft, reassuring caress of Nick's lips moving over his. Their positions may not have been familiar to him yet, but the press of Nick's lips, the feeling of his strong body flush against his, the comforting warmth of his skin was all he needed to know how incredible this was going to be. No matter what he might think, he was with Nick. Every time they touched it made his heart melt and ache and gave him a pleasure he'd never imagined could existed. This would be perfect for both of them because they were with each other.

"I need you inside me, Mark," Nick whispered against his lips, wrapping his hand around his cock and guiding it down towards his entrance. Mark gasped as the tip of his cock was pressed between Nick's ass cheeks, as the overwhelming heat coiled around him and engulfed him as his hips shifted forward slightly. He pushed in slowly, and Nick threw his head back, his moan coming out low and deep as he wrapped one arm around Mark's waist and the other up over his shoulder blade so that his hand was cupping the back of Mark's head. Mark whimpered slightly as he slid into Nick, finally stopping to breathe when his balls pressed against Nick's ass.

Nick pulled him in closer, and kissed him again. "Move, baby," he murmured, wrapping his legs around Mark's waist.

Arms shaking slightly, Mark dug his elbows into the mattress for leverage and eased his hips back, groaning as he felt Nick's tight heat drag his foreskin over the head of his cock with the condom. He moved his hips forward again and Nick moaned and bucked his hips.

"God, you make me feel so full," Nick muttered against his lips.

Mark's hips jerked at his words and they both gasped as they started rocking together slowly, dipping in for a few soft kisses every couple of thrusts. Mark knew his thrusts were uneven and sporadic at first, but, god, this felt incredible. He had never imagined something so hot and deliciously tight around himself, tugging at him, and gripping his entire cock tightly when he snapped his hips forward and buried himself.

"Faster, Mark," Nick begged, pressing their foreheads together and forcing Mark to look into his eyes. Nick's thumbs brushed over his cheekbones as their eyes met, and Mark felt his breath catch in his chest at the affection, warmth, and love he found staring back at him.

"Kiss me," Mark requested, feeling the sweat beading across his back as he snapped his hips forward faster, and Nick clenched around him. The brush of Nick's lips against his made Mark cry out. Nick's breath caught and he bucked beneath him, moaning loudly in a way that Mark had never heard before. His voice had cracked, was high and strained as Mark let go to instinct and started slamming his hips forward as Nick squeezed around him. Fuck, it felt so good.

"Mark!" Nick gasped. His head was tilted up, cupped between Nick's hands and he could see the desire in Nick's eyes, the unbelievable rapture and edgy need. His stomach tightened as Nick's internal muscles started to seize up around him.

"Come with me, Mark," Nick moaned. "I'm so close."

Nick covered his mouth with his and Mark felt himself spiralling at a thousand different speeds in a million more directions. Everything was hazy and blurry as Nick's hands rubbed over his back and shoulders and traced over his spine.

"Oh, god, Nick," Mark cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as Nick tightened around him.

"Look at me," Nick whimpered, rocking himself with the motion of Mark's powerful thrusts. "I want to see you when you come."

Mark barely managed to open his eyes before he felt the rush building inside of him explode up his spine and through his limbs. Nick's eyes darkened, and his lips parted slightly as his breath caught and his body tensed. Nick shouted with him, pressing their foreheads together, and Mark could see the lust swirling in the other man's eyes, feel the hot come dripping down between them as Nick came.

Body shaking, Mark collapsed forward onto Nick, pressing his hot and sweaty forehead into the crook on Nick's neck and kissing the salty skin softly. Nick was trembling beneath him, his arms wound tightly around Mark's body as they breathed heavily together. Mark closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of himself rising and falling with Nick's chest as Nick's legs fell from around his waist.

"I love you," Nick murmured, turning his head and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

Mark smiled and looked up into Nick's face, at his bright, twinkling eyes and big, goofy grin. "I love you, too." He made a move to pull his hips back and ease out of Nick before he got completely soft, but Nick whined and held him still.

"Don't," Nick told him, fumbling for the blankets to cover them up.

"Nick," Mark said, attempting to sound exasperated, but mostly just sounding sleepy and tired. "You can't keep me inside you forever."

"Wanna bet?" Nick challenged immediately. He yawned loudly then, and turned his head, nuzzling his face against Mark's.

Mark shut his eyes and decided not to argue. It wasn't as if he didn't want to stay this way forever. If everything could always be this perfect, this fantastically normal, he would never have to worry again. He snuggled down against Nick's chest and let the sounds of Nick's steady heartbeat lull him to sleep.

As Carole stumbled through the front door, arms draped with grocery bags, she suddenly wished that she'd made Mark and Nick go with them to the store. While she'd let Niall carry a few of the lighter bags in ahead of her, she'd been very adamant about taking the heaviest ones so he didn't strain himself. It wasn't the best idea she'd had today. That spot was reserved for giving Mark and Nick some time together somewhere that wasn't a broken apartment with people trying to break in.

Niall walked out of the kitchen from dropping off his considerably lighter load and spotted her bracing herself against the wall, arms drooping from the excessive weight. He rushed over quickly.

"Here, give me some of these."

"No, _Niall,_ you can't lift anything heavy– "

"Because a bag of cereal boxes and soup cans is _such _a heavy burden," Niall cut her off sarcastically. And it was comments like that, moments like this, when she saw so clearly where Mark could his sarcasm and humor from. Wordlessly, she raised a shaky arm to let Niall tug the bags over her wrist and carry them into the kitchen. She followed after him, setting the bags on the kitchen table and turning to follow him back to the car to stop him from carrying any of the water cases or the soda packs that Jake guzzled.

However, Niall had paused in the hallway next to Mark's bedroom door. Mark's _closed_ bedroom door. She knew Niall had been too sleepy when they'd left to notice the door being shut, but now he was staring at it grimly. Heart thumping fast, she cupped his elbow and tried to gently steer him back towards the front door. It wasn't hard for her to guess what Mark and Nick had been doing while they were gone, and she definitely didn't want Niall to find out the same way she had.

"I told them to keep the door open," Niall said in exasperation, moving to yank the door open, but Carole dashed in front of him and blocked it.

"Let's get the rest of the groceries," Carole said diplomatically. "I can go down and check on them after."

Niall's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he allowed her to pull him back out to the car to unload the last of the bags. As soon as they dropped them off in the kitchen Carole had to block his way back into the hallway.

"Niall," Carole said sternly and he stopped to fix her with a glare that clearly told her he _knew _she had either been involved in this door- shutting catastrophe or that she knew what he'd find if he went down there. It really wasn't difficult for her to see what he was thinking or that he was worried about what exactly that closed door meant. After her own experience last year with Jake she couldn't entirely blame him for his worries, but she also knew it wasn't in their control. Mark and Nick were young and in love. Anything that brought them closer together and helped heal either of them from their pasts was perfectly fine with her. Niall would definitely not see it the same way, and she could see her own nervousness was only making him more suspicious of what had been going on for the past few hours. "I will go downstairs. You need to relax."

"They shouldn't be doing anything that requires a closed door."

"I closed that door when we left," Carole told him, resigning herself to the inevitable explosions those words would bring. "They deserved a quiet afternoon together."

"You gave them the okay?" Niall asked in alarm. "The okay for _what_ exactly?"

"Niall," Carole said, frowning slightly. "There is nothing wrong with them having some time to themselves– "

"They're sixteen and moving way too fast!" Niall hollered, and Carole had been waiting for those words ever since she'd seen the two boys together on Nick's birthday – since they'd met Nick in the Sanibel High parking lot, really. It was one of the reasons she loved Niall as much as she did – he was the most caring and genuine father any child could ever ask for, but with his love came a ton of over protectiveness. She'd seen it kick in at Breadsticks all those weeks ago, because while Mark may have been in denial or oblivious to what had been happening, Carole hadn't been. Which meant Niall most definitely had noticed as well. Until Nick, Niall had been the one person who knew Mark best, and even if Mark hadn't realized at the time how fast and hard he was falling, they both had.

"They're young and in love," Carole told him bracingly, voicing her earlier thoughts aloud. "I know Mark is always going to be your little boy, but he's growing up, Niall. You can't stop him from living his life or sharing his love with Nick. Besides, I think we'd both rather have them here than at Nick's apartment."

"I– "Niall paused, his alarm and anger fading back into concern as he tugged his hat off and rubbed his hand over his head. "I just want them both to be safe, but they're just so young and... " he glanced down at his shoes and his shoulders sagged slightly. "I never imagined that Mark's first boyfriend would be like this. I figured I'd only hear about him over the phone when Mark was off at college, you know? They'd break up before Mark ever had the chance to bring him around here. I wouldn't ever have to deal with him, but then Nick showed up... "

"It's almost like fate that they found each other," Carole said softly. "I can't imagine how much more Mark would have hurt without him here. Nick would probably be back in juvie or worse by now."

Even as she spoke, the reality of Nick's life washed over her and made her heart twist painfully. They still didn't know why he'd been locked up, why he had that ankle monitor, or even how either of his parents had died. If Mark had found out any more since last week, he hadn't mentioned it, but she didn't think that was very likely. She just wished they had more to go on and that Nick would fully open up to them, or even just to Mark.

"I'll go start putting stuff away," Niall decided. "Tell Nick there's a football game on later if he's interested." Carole breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to head downstairs. She'd followed Mark's lead and hadn't mentioned the extent of Mark and Nick's intimate relationship to Niall, but it was obvious by now that he had made an educated guess in the proper direction.

Carole pulled Mark's door open slowly and called down to them. When she got no answer she started down the steps into the dim room, pausing on the landing when she spotted them curled up together under the covers. It was a nice change compared to how she'd always found Mark over the summer when she stopped by or stayed the night. He had someone warm and real and loving to curl himself around instead of a cold lifeless pillow or blanket. Carole glanced at her watch, and then back down the remaining stairs and made a quick decision. After the last time she'd walked in on such an occasion she wasn't keen on waking them up herself, but they couldn't sleep all afternoon either.

She headed down the last few steps and circled around the bed, avoiding the articles of clothing scattered across the floor, and trying to ignore the way she blushed at the sight of the condom boxes. Mark and Nick were safe, and that was the most important thing. They were safe at Niall's house tonight, and safe when they spent the afternoon making love. The rest was irrelevant for now, or until Niall sat them down for a long discussion on house rules. Carole only hoped she was around for that particular discussion, because she could already see Niall stumbling over his words and getting flustered, while Mark stared stonily at the table and Nick started up a long, never- ending string of lewd comments. Her presence was definitely going to be a necessity that night.

After setting Mark's alarm to go off at four, Carol cast one last look at them snuggled up together under Mark's blankets and headed back upstairs. As soon as she stepped onto the ground floor's landing, Niall was right there, trying to look around her and over her shoulder.

"Nothing to see," Carole said forcefully, steering him away enough to close the door again.

"Nothing I want to see or nothing to actually see?" Niall questioned as he was pushed back towards the living room. His tone alone told Carole that he really didn't want an answer to that question, but he still felt the need to ask after their well being.

"Both," Carole replied flippantly. She pushed him down into his chair and handed him the remote.

Niall stared up at her in annoyance. "That answer doesn't make any sense."

Carole bent down and pecked him on the cheek. "I'm me, sweetheart," she murmured teasingly. "I don't have to make sense if I don't want to."

"You know," Niall called after her as she started up the stairs. "Sometimes I think I love you so much that I almost hate you," he paused and frowned at her. "Now is definitely one of those times."

Smiling brightly, Carole climbed the remaining stairs and went to take a shower and change into something more comfortable for the football game they would be watching. By the time she was changed and back in the living room, Nick was stumbling through the door of Mark's bedroom. She was happy to see him in something besides the clothes that had littered the bedroom floor, even though his sopping wet hair was dribbling water all over his clean shirt.

"Do you want a towel?" Carole offered with an amused smile. Sometimes he reminded her so much of Jake.

"Uh, sure," Nick muttered, dragging a hand through his curls. "Mark told me to get out if I wasn't going to let him cut or style my hair."

Niall chuckled from his spot on the couch. "Maybe you'll get lucky and go bald early. Then you won't have to worry about him messing with your hair."

The offended look on Nick's face made her nervous for a moment, but as she headed into the kitchen for a dish towel she heard Nick's reply.

"But I _like_ my hair. It covers all the lumps on my head," Nick told him, sounding highly affronted. "Besides, who knows if me and Mark will even still... "

She stepped back into the room as Nick trailed off and handed him the towel. There was a slight frown on Nick's face at his own words, but he accepted the towel and started drying his hair.

"Maybe you'll wake up bald in the morning," Niall offered, clearing his throat uncomfortably at Nick's words.

Nick stared at him again, and Carole saw the briefest mixture of horror and disgust flicker in his gaze. "And I thought _I_ was morbid," Nick grumbled.

Niall nodded towards Nick. "I don't know if Carole told you already, but there's a football game on at five," he said by way of invitation."Jake'll be back to watch it with us."

"Browns?" Nick asked as he rubbed vigorously at the hair curled over the tops of his ears.

"At Seattle," Niall clarified.

Carole watched Nick continue to rub at his hair for another minute. It was getting long, so long it was starting to curl into his eyes and hide his handsome face. "You really _could_ use a trim," Carole decided, reaching up to tug on a loose curl.

"Oh, not you, too!" Nick cried in exasperation, ducking away from her hand and circling around to Niall's side.

"Nick, I can see nine split ends from here," Mark said suddenly from behind her. Carole spun around to find Mark staring pointedly at Nick, one hand on his hip, the other armed with a pair of scissors.

Nick instantly retreated a few more steps and dropped into what was unmistakably a fighting stance. "Bring it, Sheme," he said, watching the scissors flash through the air as Mark twirled them in annoyance. "You're not dolling me up or gelling my hair or whatever."

Mark rolled his eyes and held the scissors out to Carole. She took them silently and watched Mark approach Nick as he spoke. "The absolute _last_ thing I want to do is gel down your curls, but I'm pretty sure my fingers almost made it to Narnia a few hours ago," Mark told Nick and Carole smiled at the teasing note to his voice. "It's only a trim, Nick. Just so it's how it was a few months ago, okay?"

Nick eyed Mark suspiciously for a moment and said, "A few more weeks and the Narnians will be pouring out my scalp like sweat. I've always wanted to meet Aslan."

Carole giggled slightly at the pout in his voice as Mark finally slid his hand into Nick's and tugged him towards the bathroom. Mark's smile was radiant and satisfied. "I'll even let Carole supervise if it makes your hair feel safer."

"Shut up," Nick snapped. "You'd scream like a girl in a horror movie if I came towards your hair with a pair of scissors."

"No, I'd come at you like Niall Myers," Mark quipped back, lightly brushing his fingers over his perfectly coiffed locks. "Or I'd blind you with my hairspray."

"Remind me again why I'm dating you?" Nick countered as Mark directed him towards the bathtub. They both paused in their banter and looked at each other. Carole stopped in the doorway, and felt Niall inch up behind her. This was the first time she'd ever heard Nick solidify his relationship with Mark out loud. He looked surprised at his own words, even a little unsure of them, but Mark pulled him forward with a brilliant smile and pushed him down into the edge of the bathtub. He wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders from behind and kissed his cheek.

"Because of my fantastic sense of fashion, my glamorous good looks, and my undeniable charm."

"See, now you're just flattering yourself," Nick smiled in amusement. "I'm pretty sure that's_ my_ job."

Carole watched on fondly as Mark cut Nick's hair and they continued their playful, teasing banter. Niall wrapped a tight arm around her waist and rested his head against hers.

"He's not what I expected, but he's definitely what I hoped for," Niall whispered in her ear. Whether he was referring to Mark or Nick she didn't know, but either way the she knew the sentiment was true.

"You're all what I hoped for," Carole replied. She heard the front door open and close followed by her son's loud footsteps. "We're in the bathroom, Jake!"

Jake stopped behind them and stared over at Mark finishing up with Nick's hair. Carole was happy to see how neat and manageable it now looked.

"Looking sharp, dude," Jake said with a little nod. "We're still watching the game, aren't we?" he asked, turning to Niall.

Carole felt Niall nod against her cheek. "Even Mark's gonna watch it with us," Niall informed him and Mark's head shot up at the words.

"I'm doing what now?"

"Watching football with– with us?" Nick said uncertainly, and Carole's heart twisted in her chest at the nervous look he shot Niall and Jake. It was almost as if he thought he was no longer invited, or wasn't allowed to sit down in the living room with them.

Mark looked surprised both at Nick's words and his tone. "Since when do you like football?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you at one of Jake's games."

Nick was suddenly on his feet, running his hands through his shorter curls and looking defensive. "I can't exactly stay out that late unless I want to sleep in an alley or something," Nick said bluntly.

Mark bit his lip as Nick sighed in aggravation. "Come on," Mark said gently, nudging Nick over towards the others. "Let's go watch the game."

Nick nodded wordlessly, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. For some reason Carole couldn't place, the motion was jarring. It reminded her of Jake when he was a little boy, but there was something else there that she couldn't place. Why did that seem so familiar? She didn't think she'd ever seen Nick do it before, but whatever it was was right there at the back of her mind, dancing just out of reach.

"Hey," Nick's voice broke through her thoughts and she felt a tentative and nervous arm loop through hers. The arm wasn't as thick and heavy as Niall's or at an awkward angle because of Jake's height or even as sure and warm as Mark's, but it felt entirely natural to her as she looked up into Nick's eyes. The same jolt ran through her again as she looked into those warm hazel- green eyes, but she still couldn't place whatever it was that she couldn't remember. "You coming?"

"Yeah, of course, sweetheart," Carole reassured him as he guided her into the living room with her other boys. Nick flinched at the last word, but made no comment. Still she caught the unsure flicker of his eyes, and it almost felt like he knew something she should, but didn't.

"You really don't like it when I call you that, do you?" she asked hesitantly as they dropped onto the couch with Jake and Mark. Mark wrapped an arm around Nick quickly as Nick grimaced at her words.

"You just... remind me of someone," he said quietly. "That's all. She... she called me that. Well, I _think_ she called me that. I don't know about that memory... "

Carole's heart wrenched in her chest because she was almost positive he was talking about his mother. The beautiful, vibrant, joyful woman from that old photograph that Carole couldn't bear to think of Nick having to live without.

Nick was looking at her with the tiniest bit of hope in his gaze, but then it flickered out as he turned away to watch the kick off. Carole had no idea what exactly had just happened, whether Nick was looking at her like that because he saw her as something equivalent to his own mother or if it was something else. For a moment she almost thought he'd been talking about her, but that made even less sense to her.

The thought that Nick's memories of his own mother were so shaky he couldn't even be sure any of it was real broke her heart. She could barely imagine that adorable, happy little boy from the photograph having something so tragic thrown at him, and– she gasped inaudibly as she recalled that photograph. The small, little boy with tangles of curly hair, and big, bright eyes wandering down a white, sterile hallway in his blood soaked jeans. The quiet sniffles as he'd stopped walking and just stared around. She'd been too distressed in the middle of the break- in to really pay attention to the picture, but now that she recalled it... God, had the little boy been Nick?

She couldn't even remember what year that had been, or anything from when she'd worked at Lakefield out in Westerville. But that night, she'd never forget it. Between the terrible car accident, the double stabbing, and then finding that lost, little, trembling boy in a hallway only to later find out his mother had... had killed herself just hours ago.

The tears welled up fast in her eyes as she glanced over at Nick again. That had been him, hadn't it? He'd even mentioned something about playing the piano for his mother, and Nick played beautifully, judging from what Niall had told her last night. She opened her mouth to say something, though she didn't know what she could say – how she could bring up something Nick probably didn't remember – but then stopped and closed it.

The last thing Carole wanted was to scare Nick off when they were all happily sitting down together, while he was safe and loved, and with them. She didn't know how he'd react if she mentioned something like that, or if he'd believe her if he didn't remember it. After excusing herself to the bathroom she stood in the hallway where they couldn't see her and tried to collect herself.

Now wasn't the moment to bring that up, but finally she knew just a tiny piece to the mystery of Nick's past. The only thing she couldn't understand was why the beautiful, loving woman she'd felt like she'd seen in the picture would leave her little boy all alone in the world. Her mind couldn't wrap around how that picture could lead up to the Nick she'd met six weeks ago, the Nick out in the living room that was trying so hard to remember how to love and be loved. By Monday afternoon Nick was at a complete loss about what he should do regarding his living situation. The weekend had been amazing for him, and for the first time in years he'd felt not only accepted but at ease. Being around Mark's father was still sort of nerve- racking, but the man actually seemed to _care_ about him. Had even gone out of his way to give his apartment a safety makeover, but was still a complete anomaly to him in so many ways. Every other fatherly figure in his life had failed him when he'd needed them most. His father had broken down and turned to alcohol after his mother's death. His grandfather had always been cold and aloof and then sent him off for someone at Dalton to handle. But Niall was patient with him, tender even, almost as if he knew what Nick's worries and concerns were and was waiting for him to make the moves. It still didn't make the thought of completely giving up his current life any easier. He might hate living alone in a broken apartment, but it was so much easier than trying to fit somewhere he wasn't sure he belonged, even if he did feel accepted there.

Nick shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and clamped his fist around the cool, smooth metal key. It was the one symbol of hope he'd never thought he'd ever find. He kicked off from the ground again as he rolled past his building and headed towards the nearby shopping center. With the many meals he'd been eating at the Shemes he could afford to buy himself something he actually wanted to eat for a change. At least for now he could. For all he knew, they might change their minds tomorrow, or him and Mark might have a fight and that would be it.

As Nick rolled through the bank parking lot he shook his head roughly to try and get rid of the thought. Even if he somehow made Mark hate him, Carole wouldn't give up on him. At least he hoped not. The memory from a few nights ago made him at least think she wouldn't, but he was almost convinced he'd been projecting her onto that nurse. It had to be almost impossible for the two women to actual be the same person. The sudden screeching of a car's brakes locking up made him whip around in alarm as a little sedan squealed to a stop right next to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" the driver bellowed as he rolled the window down and stuck his head out. Nick couldn't decide if he was surprised or not that Noah Samerman, of all people, had almost run him over in a bank parking lot. Sam was staring past him at the bank, and Nick chanced a quick glance behind him. Why the hell was Sam staring at an ATM like he wanted to rip its throat out?

"My problem?" Nick retorted in disbelief. "You're the jackass treating a bank parking lot like a freeway so you can... drive your car into an ATM?"

Sam glared darkly at him, and Nick knew he'd guessed right as the other boy slammed his fist down on the horn. As he clinked his tongue ring against the inside of his front teeth, he caught the expression on Sam's face. He knew that look in Sam's eyes. The one that said he was fucking done and was ready to throw himself to the lions if it meant someone would take notice of him for one second, would stop to _care_ for only a few minutes. He'd been the same way the day he'd landed himself in juvie, maybe even before that. Completely at the end of his rope and fed up with nobody caring or listening or _trying_.

Instead of sneering or stepping aside, Nick kicked up his skateboard and raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Most people say please when they want something," Nick called out over the blaring horn.

" Get the fuck outta my way, Atkinson," Sam sneered, letting up on the horn. "You've ruined enough already. Now _move_."

"No," Nick said simply. God, what was he even doing? He didn't know anything about Noah Samerman expect that he hated him for taking his title of badass at Sanibel in a matter of days, and could bench press twenty pounds more than he could. Juvie on the other hand was something he was intimately familiar with, and it was the exact place Sam would end up if he tried to do what Nick thought he was about to do. He dragged his tongue ring over his teeth again, shivering slightly at the reason he had it – the reason he still kept it. To remind himself of how much worse it could get.

Nick flopped down onto the hood of Sam's car, feeling the metal cave slightly under his weight as he sat so that he was facing the windshield. He had half a mind to just jump off and walk away and let Sam do whatever stupid thing he was about to do. Nobody had ever tried to stop him. Nobody had cared enough to give him a second thought until it was too late. Maybe Mark's good influence was starting to rub off on him, or maybe he just didn't want to watch someone else jump head first into his own situation. He honestly wasn't sure as he crossed his legs and set his skateboard across his lap.

"Get the hell off my car!"

Nick ignored the shout and instead waited until he caught and held Sam's gaze. Behind the flashes of anger Nick could see doubt, anxiety and desperation. Yeah, he'd definitely been there. "So are you going to take the whole thing or just the money inside of it?" he asked flippantly, spinning one of his skateboard's wheels and trying to appear as disinterested as he thought he should be.

"I swear I'll drive you straight into that thing– "

"I'm assuming you want to get caught, since without a mask or something your Mohawk is a dead giveaway," Nick quipped at him, glancing down at his board and following the edges of the design on it. "Taking the whole thing will be your best bet at getting caught."

"_What?_" Sam demanded, some of his anger disappearing in his confusion. Nick looked up again to find Sam's shoulders sagging slightly, his brow lined with confusion instead of anger now.

"Just some friendly help from one juvenile delinquent to another," Nick said with a small shrug. "If the mad house is what you're aiming for, that is. Watch out for Shark if he's still there. He likes to rip out piercings... and give them if you don't have any."

Almost absentmindedly Nick clinked his tongue ring against his teeth again. The noise seemed to attract Sam's attention. Sam's gaze was scrutinizing for a few seconds as he eyed Nick suspiciously, but then his usual smirk fell into place.

"Oh, bullshit, Atkinson," Sam decided after a moment. "A twerp like you would never sur– "

Nick slammed his booted foot down on the hood, his ankle monitor flashing in the weak October sunlight. "Survive juvie? I was fighting to survive long before juvie, Sam. Don't _think_ for one second you know my life better than I do and I won't do the same with you."

Sam's expression was stony as Nick tucked his foot back under his other leg so that he was cross legged again. For a moment he stared off towards the shopping center, trying to decide what he should say next or if he should bother trying to say anything at all, but Sam beat him to the punch.

"Get in," Sam told him hoarsely. It was the broken quality to Sam's voice that made him slide off the hood without a second thought. Normally, he'd hesitate and wait to see some sort of ploy to trick him, but not right now. Not with someone who looked as lost as he'd been feeling for years. Not with someone who needed his own Mark to open his eyes and heart to the world. The locks clipped, and he tugged the door open and silently dropped into the seat next to Sam.

For a long time they were both silent, listening to the still running motor make the car hum around them, and the random car that passed by on the main road.

"Does that really happen?" Sam asked suddenly. "The thing about the piercings."

"Um, yeah," Nick swallowed thickly and crossed his arms. This was something he'd never told anybody, not even Mark. He couldn't even explain to himself why he was telling Sam any of this, but it just felt... right. Fights and trouble weren't exactly Mark area of expertise, but Sam had some dealings with it. He'd have even more if he went to juvie. "They held me down and pierced my tongue the first night. Apparently they get off on a pretty face with a tongue ring."

Sam nodded jerkily at his words, his hand brushing over the left side of his chest subconsciously, protectively, as his eyes flashed. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen," Nick grumbled, watching as another car passed by on the main road. "Wasn't hard for three guys twice my size to hold me down."

"Did they make you..." Sam trailed off, but Nick turned to stare at him questioningly and was greeted with Sam poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue repeatedly. If he hadn't been feeling so odd and solemn, he would have either been incredibly amused.

"No, the one guy that tried ended up with a slashed face," Nick said darkly. "I only suck dick when I want to."

"Like Sheme's," Sam blurted, his tone almost thoughtful, like he was actually contemplating Nick's sex life with Mark. It made Nick snort and smile despite himself. If nothing else, Sam at least shared his lewd sense of humor.

"I do more than suck that," Nick said vaguely. Another heavy silence filled the car, and Nick clinked his tongue ring some more as the memories of that night when he was fourteen replayed in his mind. As terrified as he'd been he'd done his best not to show it, but that had only made him a bigger target than his looks had.

"Why do you still have it if that's why you got it, man?"

"To remind myself," Nick told him before he'd even thought about whether or not he wanted to answer. "E- every time I want to do something really stupid, I feel it and I remember where I was and how I got it, " he paused and took a shaky breath. "I don't ever want to go back there. One day in there is enough time to convince you that everything out here is sunshine and rainbows."

Sam nodded again as they went back to staring out of the windshield. The sun had sunk behind the shopping center next to the bank already. The assholes at his apartment would be around in an hour at least, two at most. He'd have to head back now to make sure he missed them, but he couldn't seem to get his hand unstuck from his armpit to push the door open.

"I wanted to keep her, you know," Sam said suddenly. Even if Nick had been moving to leave, he would have frozen at how hoarse, sad, and choked up Sam sounded. "It's like there's no place to move forward to without her here. When she was here I knew who I wanted to be, but now... "

Something in his brain clicked at Sam's words. It was something he'd only heard in passing, something he'd seen when Hannah and Jen had tried to rip each other apart in the hallway during the first week of school. The baby Hannah had had with Sam last year had to be the "she" Sam was talking about right now.

"Doesn't mean you have to ruin yourself," Nick muttered awkwardly. "People are going to label us however they want, but maybe there are better things to be than a badass."

Sam laughed humorlessly at his words. "Like what? A super hero?"

Nick shrugged and fiddled with the button for the window. "Dunno. Happy," he glanced down at the heavy weight of his ankle monitor. "Free, in... in love."

Sam turned to stare at him hard, and he swallowed. It felt strange to admit something like that out loud, especially to a guy he'd never said more than five words to until twenty minutes ago. But Sam was on his level in a way nobody else around here seemed to be, and while he'd never been to juvie and probably hadn't done anything as terrible as Nick had, he still got how Nick was. How he threw up his walls and did stupid things because he didn't know how else to act or how else to keep himself from hurting. Sam got what it was like to have to be tougher than you actually were all the time. At least Nick thought he did.

"If you hurt my boy Sheme, you can say goodbye to whipping it out to piss," Sam threatened suddenly, bluntly. "I'll sack you so hard– "

"You'd end up with your balls in your throat if you even tried it," Nick cut in sharply. He paused for a moment and then added more quietly, "I never want to hurt Mark."

"You're... different with him," Sam said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"No," Nick clarified. "I'm myself with him."

"I was myself with Hannah, I think," Sam paused and then added in a tone that was both thoughtful and uncertain. "I'm also myself when I drill holes in the walls to the girls locker room, though."

"Drill one in the guys room next to Mark's locker and I'd be right there with you," Nick said, smirking slightly at the other boy's words. Sam was an alright dude. A little rough around the edges like himself, a little angry and misguided, but with a soft heart he tried to hide and protect.

Sam turned to him with a matching smirk. "I'll think about it, Atkinson," he said.

Nick popped the door open and swung his legs out of the car. "Later, Sam."

"Whatever, dude."

Nick slammed the door shut as the car lurched away and back out onto the main road. That was without a doubt the strangest encounter he'd had since he'd ended up in Lima. Everyone else treated him how he'd expected to be treated. Well, everyone except Mark's family, but who knew if that would even last. He glanced at the last few rays of sunlight peaking over the shopping center and decided to skip the ice cream tonight. If he was lucky he'd manage to make it home before his tormentors showed up.

The night went better than he'd expected it to. Nobody showed up and attempted to harass him through his front door or to bust it in, and while he didn't sleep as well as he did at Mark's, it was still much more restful than any night there had been since the break- in.

Tuesday was a nice change of pace for Nick as well. It was the first time in weeks that he was actually awake enough to pay attention in his lessons, and it was even better with Mark by his side for almost the entire day. He knew the other kids were whispering about them, or maybe just about him and how much he was smiling and holding Mark's hand in the halls and during their classes together, and how he hadn't had detention or done anything stupid in almost two weeks, but for now at least, he didn't care. This was the best he could ever remember feeling, and even if he'd tried, he didn't think he could have held in his grin whenever Mark blushed just because he was holding his hand in the halls.

By the time they settled in at their lunch table, however, some of his bubbling happiness had worn off. The looks and whispers were still directed towards them in the oddly quiet cafeteria, and Nick found his temper starting to flare up because of it. In the halls it had been in passing, something he'd barely even registered, but here he could see all the gazes directed towards them, all the looks and judging eyes. It wasn't even them as a couple that had attracted the attention, almost every set of eyes was flickering towards him.

"Ignore them," Mark whispered next to him, his head held high and a proud gleam in his eyes. "If they can't understand that what we have – "

"Its not _us_ they're talking about," Nick snapped through gritted teeth. "It's _me._"

"So they noticed your haircut or something," Mark said, looking confused at his tone and narrowed eyes, but his own tone told Nick that Mark understood exactly what he'd just said. He just didn't want to admit it. "Nick, it doesn't matter – "

"It's not my damn haircut," Nick hissed, and he hated himself for how angry he sounded. He picked up their laced hands and rested them on the table between their lunch trays. "It's _this_."

"But you just said– "

"I don't do things like this, remember?" Nick told him sharply, his stomach lurching as the words came out, as he remembered how he'd been only a month ago. Until now he'd lured a guy in, fucked him raw once, sometimes a few times if he felt like it, and then he was done. "They think I've gone soft."

The hurt look that flashed across Mark's face cut right through his heart like a hot knife. Fuck, he hadn't meant it to hurt Mark, or to make it sound like he didn't love being with him. He trusted Mark more than anyone, put all of his trust in Mark because nobody else made sense to him or just allowed him to be himself.

"You... you don't want to be with me?" Mark's voice was small and trembling, and it plunged the knife right back into Nick's chest. The hand he'd been clutching for the majority of the day tried to pull free from his grip, but he held on tighter and slid an arm around Mark's waist to stop him from standing up and running.

"Hey, no," Nick mumbled, his voice strained and apologetic. "I didn't – _fuck_, you _know_ I didn't mean it that way. Do you really think Sunday afternoon would have happened if I didn't want this?"

As an added measure of reassurance he brought their intertwined hands up to his lips and showered Mark's knuckles with several light kisses. Mark's smile was slightly shy at the gesture, and Nick couldn't stop himself from smiling in return.

"Sorry," Mark said softly. "I know you didn't mean it that way, this is all just so... new to me still. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and realize you've just been a very vivid dream or something."

"It's new to me, too, you know," Nick told him, bending forward to nibble on Mark's jaw line. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it at all. I just... if they start thinking that, they'll start asking questions or try to get close or whatever. The worse I am, the farther away people stay."

He felt Mark nod jerkily at his words as he soothed his tongue over the soft skin he'd just been sucking at.

"B- Nick, we can't do th- this here," Mark stuttered, shifting on the bench, and unconsciously ending up moving closer to Nick's warmth.

"Why not?" Nick murmured, curling his tongue around the definition of Mark's jaw line and letting his warm breath brush over the wet trail. "Have more pressing places to be, Sheme?"

"I need to f- figure out what s- s- song I'm singing for my d- duet," Mark gasped breathless as he managed to force the words out, leaning into Nick's touch as his earlobe was sucked into Nick's mouth. Despite himself, Nick pulled away a few inches. How the hell could someone sing a duet _alone_? Maybe he'd misunderstood.

Instead of asking the obvious he said, "Who are you singing with?"

Mark's eyes closed briefly as he tried to steady himself from the contact. "Myself, of course," he said evenly as he opened his eyes and finished his last few bites of pasta. "Everyone else partnered off into their couples for the most part, and there's no _way_ I'm singing with Sam."

His run- in with Sam yesterday afternoon flickered through his mind. "Sam's all right," he shrugged, and finished off his milk carton.

"Since when do you even remember who Sam is?" Mark asked suspiciously.

"I do have a class with him, you know," Nick said bluntly as the bell rang for the end of their lunch period. "Right now, actually."

They dumped their trays and Nick followed Mark down the hallway to his locker, wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder as Mark traded out books.

"It's not right that you have to sing alone," Nick told him sadly.

"Well, the only boy I want to sing with isn't in Perfroming Arts Club," Mark countered, sliding out his math book and tucking it into his bag.

Nick shifted uncomfortably, even guiltily at his words. He'd tried out just to get closer to Mark, to excite him with that song and make him want Nick as much as he'd wanted Mark. Even now, he didn't see the point in joining up. With his ankle monitor he couldn't very well help at competitions or anything, but the thought of Mark singing alone didn't sit well with him either. Mark deserved every ounce of happiness they could find in this miserable world.

Mark's locker snapped shut and he tilted his head against Nick's. "It's okay that you don't want to join Perfroming Arts Club," he said. "Even if you are really good."

Nick resisted the urge to squirm at his words. Even though he knew Mark wasn't trying to make him feel guilty, he still did. For a long moment he stared at the air vents of Mark's locker and then spoke.

"So if you don't have to figure anything out with a singing partner you should skip on Perfroming Arts this afternoon," Nick suggested, sliding his hands around to Mark's hips and pressing his fingers into his flesh possessively. "You could come over to my place and work on your... high notes."

He felt the heat of Mark's blush where their cheeks were touching and chuckled a little. "Nice to know I can still make you blush."

"Only because you say the most ridiculous things," Mark remarked as the warning bell rang. "I'll leave Perfroming Arts early as a compromise."

"Hmm, you'll be nice and loosened up from practice then," Nick said slyly, pressing a fleeting kiss to Mark's cheek. "See you in a few hours."

He stepped away from the heat of Mark's body, catching a glimpse of his flushed face and the way his chest was heaving as he turned back down the hall and headed for the gymnasium. The final bell rang out just as he shuffled into the locker room.

As Nick headed to his locker Sam nodded at him. He had to catch himself from glaring and flicking the other boy off as he remembered yesterday. Him and Sam were... he wasn't entirely sure what they were. Friends definitely wasn't the word he would use. They understood each other, kindred spirits or some bullshit like that, but not friends. Jake gave him his usual dopey smile from the opposite row of lockers, and Nick nodded in acknowledgement. This was all incredibly bizarre and weird. Friends were as much of a foreign concept to him as a boyfriend had been two months ago.

The rest of the class was just as odd for him. Sam and Jake joined him at his bench press and it was horribly distracting to actually have someone spotting for him and to not be alone with his thoughts. The other Perfroming Arts boys keep shooting them looks, and as much as he tried to glare at them or see the looks as something aggressive there was really no way to do it when that Asian guy kept dancing around stupidly and acting like a mime.

He couldn't bring himself to be nice and smile or anything either, because none of them had asked to sing with Mark. Perhaps none of them even wanted to sing with Mark. It wasn't fair to Mark that he was left alone in a duet competition, and as much as he hated the thought of joining up and getting close to anyone else he knew there was nobody else Mark would choose to sing with but himself.

Back in the locker room, as the afternoon announcements echoed between the rows of lockers, Nick made a quick decision. As the other boys rushed for the halls at the bell, Nick circled around and cornered Sam, who usually lagged behind.

"What's up with this duet competition, Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes immediately. "Another horrible idea of Angelo's to get us motivated. I'm not doing it," he informed Nick. "I don't think your boy wants to sing with me anyway."

"I don't think you two could even manage to agree on a song," Nick said in acknowledgement. He folded his arms and leaned against the locker. God, he hated asking people questions like these. Hated feeling like he was putting himself out there, hated letting other people know that he cared about anything or anyone but himself. "When's Mark singing?"

Sam stared at him in bewilderment. "How's he doing a duet by himself?"

"When?" Nick demanded, and Sam glared at his authoritative tone.

"Probably Thursday," Sam shrugged carelessly as he shouldered his bag. "Why?"

He could definitely arrange something by Thursday. Something simple, but that he was certain Mark would know. Mark wouldn't even realize anything was up until he went to Perfroming Arts with him and Nick dragged him to the front...

"You've got a scheming look going on," Sam said uncertainly, eyeing him suspiciously. "You're about to go all hopeless romantic on me, aren't you? I never pegged you as the type."

"You never _pegged_ me at all," Nick retorted sharply. He stared at Sam's curious expression for a few seconds before he stepped away and headed towards the door. "See you Thursday."

"That's _it_?" Sam bellowed after him. "Don't I at _least_ get a hint? I thought we were bros now, dude!"

Chuckling at the annoyed voice still echoing after him from the locker room, Nick left for the parking lot. Nick spent the rest of his afternoon tangled up with Mark in his bed back at his apartment. After a few hours they finally made their way over to Mark's house, and Nick took the time while Mark was in the shower to sneak a peek at Mark's iPod and pick a song. Wednesday followed a similar pattern, with Nick spending lunch in the choir room under the pretence of [...] figuring out the piano chords and then finalizing things that night after they left his place and went to Mark's.

When he woke up in Mark's living room on Thursday morning it felt like he'd swallowed a bag of bouncy balls. Despite the fact that Carole and Niall, and even Jake, had seen him play and sing softly to himself last night and Tuesday, they luckily hadn't mentioned it. He had the sneaking suspicion that Jake had figured out what he was up to, probably with help from Sam, and he had made sure the adults stayed tight- lipped about it.

If Mark noticed how jittery he was, he didn't comment on it throughout the day. There were a lot more soft touches and glances than they typically exchanged, but nothing beyond that. As the bell ending their lunch period rang they shuffled off towards Mark's locker before parting.

"I'll see you in Perfroming Arts," Nick said nervously, and, god, he hoped he didn't sound as nervous and transparent as he thought he did. Mark totally saw what he was planning, didn't he? He was so on to his surprise that it was amazing he hadn't tried to stop him from doing it already.

But Mark's eyebrows knitted together in obvious confusion at his statement. "You're coming to Perfroming Arts Club today?" There was both hope and uncertainty hidden in his words and Nick shrugged a little, feeling ridiculously bashful. God, how the hell was he ever going to sing this song with Mark in front of everyone?

He let his facade slip into place a little bit and murmured against Mark's cheek, "Of course, babe. I'd never miss a chance to watch you attempt vocal masturbation."

"Oh my _god_. Have you been talking to Jen, too?"

"What do you mean 'too'?"

"Jake said you seemed cool with Sam now," Mark said slowly. "Hell, _you_ said he was 'all right'."

The warning bell rang as Mark closed his locker. His eyes were oddly bright in a way Nick was entirely unfamiliar with. "I'll see you after class," he said happily, and really, Nick swore he was almost gushing. It make his whole body tingle, because _he'd_ done that. He'd made Mark happy. In another two hours he might make Mark the happiest he'd ever been.

His last class dragged by at a torturously slow pace. Once again Jake and Sam worked out with him, but this time the rest of the Perfroming Arts guys joined in at the bench next to them. As much as he wanted to sneer and be a bastard, it was a great distraction from how nervous he was feeling. By the end of the hour he'd almost mastered their names and had had to force down his laughter at Sam's James Earl Jones impression. He shouldn't want to laugh with them or even remember their names, yet he'd done it without even thinking about it. He was getting entirely to comfortable now, and the thought that he was letting his guard down, letting people in, still scared him. But then he thought of Mark and how much he'd struggled to let him in, and how glad he was that he finally had.

He lingered behind again and ended up walking with Sam towards the choir room.

"God, you're so damn nervous I feel like I'm going to drown in your sweat, dude," Sam said flatly, shoving his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. Or make him smile or punch him or something. Hell, if Nick knew how these types of interactions worked. Mark was already waiting in the choir room with Anna and Sarah, who both squealed at the sight of him.

"Hello, Nick," Sarah said immediately and Nick took a step back in alarm as she continued what seemed to be a prepared welcome speech. "It's so good to have another voice to sing back up for me. Just so you know, I've got two gay dads so I am _totally_ okay with you and Mark. Now, I've already got our sectional songs selected which all feature me heavily on lead v– "

"God, you're like a wind up doll on an endless loop," Nick cut in, curling his lips slightly as he stared down at her.

"Nick," Mark warned half- heartedly as he tugged Nick down into the seat next to him. As Nick glanced around uncomfortably he noticed that _everyone_ was watching him and Mark. But it was in a different way than how the rest of the school looked at them. It was almost fond, even excited and thrilled, and it made him even more uneasy than the judgmental looks. At least he understood why they got those, even if he didn't like them. But people looking happy that he and another boy were sitting in a choir room holding hands was something brand new to him.

Before he had time to over-think or pull away and leave or do something stupid that he'd end up regretting, Mr. Angelo strolled in.

"All right, guys! Who's up first today?"

Nick felt Mark's hand start to slip out of his and he clutched it tighter as he took a steadying breath. It was now or never. If he didn't speak up now he'd never have the courage to bare his heart and soul like this ever again.

Ignoring the odd look Mark gave him as he held the other boy's hand in place he said, "Mark and me are going."

Mr. Angelo visibly blanked at his voice, and looked shocked at his presence in his choir room after weeks of never coming back. "Nick, welcome back!" he turned to Mark and eyed him in surprise, letting his gaze rest on their linked hands for a moment before he spoke. "As long as the song's more appropriate this time, then go ahead, guys."

He felt Mark shrug helplessly next to him as an answer to Mr. Angelo's hidden question as he pulled Mark to his feet.

"Nick, what are you doing?" Mark whispered urgently. "I'm singing by myself. We haven't prepared anything at all – "

"You know it," Nick told him reassuringly as Mark continued to fret under his breath. He stepped closer to Mark and took him by the elbows, very aware of the dozen pairs of eyes watching their every move. God, it was unnerving. It was like he was being dissected alive in front of an audience on national television. And he was almost positive they could all see how he felt about the boy in front of him, and the thought was terrifying in a way that made him want to clam up and never trust another person ever again. But then Mark's gaze settled on him, full of trust and wonder and a calm happiness that made him certain of only one thing. He would do anything to make Mark as happy as he deserved to be, no matter how awkward and scary it was for himself.

"Over here," Nick said, directing him to the piano and settling down on the bench behind it. Slowly, Mark dropped down next to him and watched him poise his fingers over the ivory keys. "This is for all the– the things I haven't known how to say without ending up being an asshole or sounding like a babbling idiot."

"Nick, " Mark said in anguish. "You aren't– "

"Sing with me?" he asked simply, almost shyly and, fuck, he hated that feeling even worse. The way his stomach swooped at how nervous and bashful and _exposed_ this made him feel. He almost felt like he was pleading with Mark, and the thought that maybe he'd been wrong, that maybe Mark _didn't_ want to sing with him–

"Okay," Mark said softly, sliding an arm around his waist and sliding closer on the bench. "You better hope I know this song as well as you think I do."

A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it and he dropped his fingers to the keys and started the piano introduction. Mark breathed in sharply after the first measure, and he risked a glance over at him to see his eyes shining brightly and welling up with tears. Mark mouthed his name, and just stared at him adoringly as he began to sing. As long as Mark was looking at him like that it didn't matter if anyone else was in the room or even smacking him upside the head. Everything outside of the beautiful boy in front of him turned into a blurred haze as he focused in on the only thing he considered important.

_"You've been on my mind_

_I grow fonder every day,_

_Lose myself in time_

_Just thinking of your face_

_God only knows_

_Why it's taken me so long_

_To let my doubts go_

_You're the only one that I want"_

He turned his head to look at Mark, and his heart started battering against his ribcage at the radiant smile Mark was directing at him. For once he'd done something right, and not only with his song choice. He'd picked Mark to share himself with, and the other man was more than he'd ever been able to imagine.

"_I don't know why I'm scared cause I've been here before"_

Mark's finger pressed against his lips quickly as he took over singing, and Nick was so grateful for it. His voice had started cracking with the emotions that were swirling through him at the love and affection Mark's eyes held for him.

_"Every feeling, every word, I've imagined it all_

_You'll never know, if you never try_

_to forgive your past, and simply be mine"_

Nick quickly released the notes for the rest, and tried to re- gain control of his voice to join Mark for the chorus. It wasn't easy when he was being looked at like that and getting choked up and feeling like he'd been dumped into a sea of emotions that he'd been fighting at and trying to understand and control and forget for ages. He'd let Mark into his heart, had even let Mark know the truth, but letting the rest of the world see it, letting himself be the boy Mark saw with everyone else was almost too overwhelming after these past few weeks together.

_"I dare you to me be your, your one and only_

_Promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms_

_So come on and give me the chance_

_To prove that I'm the one who can_

_Walk that mile until the end starts"_

Mark's voice had faded out before the last line and Nick took a shaky breath as Mark took the second verse, a hand cupping his cheek so that Nick couldn't look away from Mark's gaze even if he'd wanted to. With Mark staring right into his eyes and singing right at him he could barely focus on what his hands were doing and he was almost positive that he missed some notes or hit the wrong chords a few times, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After another steady breath he took the second half.

_"Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close?_

_And have you tell me whichever road I choose you'll go"_

Mark took over again, twirling a finger around one of his curls as he sang and he grinned at him, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks at how good it felt to feel this free, this open and alive in a way he'd sworn to never let himself be again. Nick let his eyes drift shut as he sang the chorus again with Mark, finally getting to the one section he'd been uncertain about. There were two parts but he honestly had no way of knowing which Mark would choose to sing, or even which part he wanted to sing.

Mark's forehead brushed against his and before he could decide to start singing the first part, Mark's soft, beautiful voice trickled into his ears and wrapped around him.

_"I know it ain't easy giving up your heart"_

His chest constricted at the force behind those words, the understanding that he'd been hoping Mark would pick up from it. He echoed after Mark, following his lead as he let his eyes flicker open so that his vision was filled with sparkling blue eyes.

_"Nobody's perfect, trust me I've learned it"_

Nick was lost in the piano melody and the way their voices mixed and bled together from that moment until Mark's hands captured his over the keys and made him still and stop playing. Mark leaned into him and brushed their lips together slowly, pulling back enough to whisper words he'd never realized he needed to hear until they'd been said.

"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, Nick," Mark murmured for only him to hear. The words stirred something in his brain, like perhaps his mother or father had said it at some point before they'd fallen apart, but it was lost to the years he'd spent without them. Mark leaned back in to kiss him more firmly, and Nick returned it eagerly, letting his tongue trace over Mark's lips for a moment and someone wolf whistled behind them.

"Get it, Atkinson!" Sam whooped loudly, flashing them a thumbs up as they broke apart.

Nick glanced around at the rest of the club, taking in the misty eyed girls, Kristina sobbing into Mike's shoulder, and the boys all looking both impressed and understanding. It was a weird feeling for him, seeing all of these people who looked like they _wanted_ him around, like they didn't think he was some troublesome, idiotic kid who fucked around and did stupid shit just because he could. The thought of making friends hadn't crossed his mind in years, but he'd never thought he'd want a boyfriend either. He smiled at Mark as they stood up and returned to their seats. Maybe this Perfroming Arts Club thing wasn't a bad idea after all. Maybe it was finally safe to let himself enjoy life again.

Even when Mark woke up in his bed on Friday morning he still felt like he was soaring. An untamable smile pealed back his lips from the moment he woke up and remembered Perfroming Arts Club from the day before until he headed into his bathroom to get ready for school. The first thing he noticed, and it only made him smile wider, was Nick's toothbrush, razor, and shaving gel set up on the counter next to his moisturizing bottles.

Little pieces of Nick's life had slowly been accumulating in their house since the previous weekend, especially now that him and Nick were coming back here for dinner every night. There was an extra, fluffy blue towel hung on the back of his bathroom door, a smaller hand towel draped over the edge of the sink, an Italian textbook and Calculus textbook both left on his desk from Wednesday night, and a collection of dirty clothes in his hamper that most definitely weren't his.

There were moments when Nick was still the boy he'd first meant, including last night at dinner when Niall had mentioned taking down the extra mattress in the attic and setting it up in his office this coming weekend. As soon as the word "coming" had left Niall's mouth, Nick had latched onto it and started in on a lewd tangent about charging entry to the room that would be his "bang house", insisting that he'd give Mark a discount rate on a monthly pass. Mark had blushed furiously at the comment, more so because of what they'd just been doing at Nick's apartment the hour before, than the implications of future happenings.

His father had glared at Nick and reprimanded him, and Nick had snapped right back with his usual hostile sass. For a moment Mark had worried that his father had gone too far too soon with scolding and punishments, but as soon as Nick had finished, he looked guilty about his words. A quickly mumbled apology followed, and while Niall still looked slightly perturbed, he let it go.

After almost an hour in the bathroom, Mark put the finishing touches on his hair and headed upstairs to wake Nick up. It was shocking to him how easily Nick had fallen into his morning routines, and how, for the most part, Nick was slowly acclimating himself to his family. It wasn't a perfect fit by any means, especially with how last night had gone (and the many more nights like it that Mark kept imagining), but everyone was trying to make this work, and Mark was certain it would, given enough time and patience.

Nick was stretched out on the couch and drooling slightly when he entered the living room. Carole greeted him in passing, kissing him on the cheek and telling him that breakfast was done and that she'd see him tonight before she headed out to work. From inside the kitchen Mark could hear his father and Jake's muffled voices as he woke Nick up with his customary kiss and nuzzle. It took him a good ten minutes to get Nick awake and head down to his bathroom to get ready before he settled into eating breakfast with Jake and his father.

The usual shuffle to eat and make sure they had all their books and assignments wasn't quite as hazardous as it had been the past few mornings now that Nick was starting to fall into the mix. He let Jake drive them to Sarah's to pick her up and then school so that he could sit in the back-seat with Nick. With Sarah in the car Nick was very stiff in his embrace, but Mark figured that had more to do with her constant babbling about their duet yesterday than the fact that Mark had his arm around him.

"– and your voices blend beautifully together– "

"Our come blends quite nicely, too," Nick told her bluntly as they pulled into the student parking lot. "Sometimes we even take little paintbrushes and paint patterns on the sheets."

Sarah turned to gap at Nick, who jumped out of the car the moment Jake pulled into a parking space. Mark followed after him quickly, finally catching up in the stairwell.

That was a lie," Mark said as he linked his arm through Nick's. "There's a dozen condoms in your trash can and clean sheets on your bed as evidence."

"And enough that dries on your stomach every afternoon," Nick countered with a smirk, eyes flickering down to Mark's waistline.

"As I recall, most of that mess has been your doing," Mark said pointedly, letting his own gaze shift down Nick's body. A cocky smile greeted his stare, and Nick pressed his body closer until Mark found himself pinned against the wall behind the staircase.

"It wasn't last night," Nick purred, nipping roughly at his earlobe and rubbing his hands over Mark's hips. "I fucked you breathless for _hours_ yesterday."

Mark shuddered slightly at the memory as Nick shifted closer and started sucking on his neck. He glanced around briefly to see that the stairwell was empty and then let out the moan lodged in his throat. Of course he remembered that. There was nothing that could ever make him forget anything they'd done together, especially during the last week. With another moan, Mark rocked his hips back against Nick's, only to be pressed more firmly against the concrete wall. Nick's fingers brushed over his hardening cock for a moment and then with a soft, lingering kiss Nick backed away, his eyes dark and fiery, but alight with some teasing promise Mark couldn't wait to be kept.

"Save that," Nick said when Mark jerked his hips forward against Nick's palm again, "for later when I'm holding you down and fucking myself on you."

"Nick, you _tease_," Mark growled as Nick took a few steps back and smiled wolfishly at him.

"Consider it sufficient revenge for the weeks of torture I suffered while you insisted on remaining a little virgin queen," Nick retorted. "You only have to wait until two."

"No, I've got to make up that French quiz I missed when we left early last week," Mark told him angrily, huffing in annoyance as Nick set off down the hallway towards his locker. Mark followed after him, stopping to watch Nick pick the lock on it for a moment as he waited for a reply.

"Well there's two options for that," Nick said thoughtfully, and the seductive twinkle in his eyes made Mark's stomach swoop as heat started pooling in it again. "I could come _encourage_ you," Nick said in a low voice. "I bet you'd love having me suck you off under your desk..."

"Not with a _teacher_ in the room," Mark scolded, even though another shot of arousal had pulsed through him at Nick's words.

"Or," Nick continued as though Mark hadn't interrupted. "I'll just have to spend an hour by myself getting ready to ride your dick. Stretching myself out so that the moment you get there I can push you down onto the bed and fuck you."

Mark was almost positive his heart had burst straight through his ribcage at his boyfriend's words. There were probably little pieces of it fluttering through the air all around him, but he couldn't get his gaze to stray from Nick's lustful eyes.

Nick gave him a mocking, thoughtful look as he closed his locker. "As much as I like putting on a show, I think I'm going to go with the second option." Nick decided, shooting him a shameless grin. "As much as I love getting to taste you, I love it a lot more when you come in my ass."

Completely flustered and hard now, Mark could only stare after Nick as the other boy headed towards their first period class. It'd been a while since he'd seen this side of Nick, everything around them had been so raw and new for Nick since the break- in, but it was clear to Mark that Nick was definitely starting to get comfortable with the situation. God, he suddenly remembered why he used to hate Nick. And it had everything to do with how much his cock was aching to be inside Nick's body right now.

The rest of his day was a terrible blur. English consisted of Nick's hands randomly reaching out and brushing along his back, or lightly walking his fingers up Mark's spine until Mark was shivering and biting his lip to hold back his panting moans. Fortunately he had two classes without Nick after that to give himself some cool down time, but while Nick was no longer present, his own mind seemed to have turned against him. By the time he settled down in Chemistry for their test that afternoon he was half- hard again and unable to keep his eyes from darting to where Nick was reclining in his desk chair and doing obscene things that involved his pen and his mouth.

At the end of class he was almost positive he'd failed the exam and he didn't even have a chance to corner Nick and drag him off somewhere for _anything_ since the other boy darted from the room and disappeared. Heart thumping wildly, Mark raced downstairs to his French class and impatiently waited for his teacher to arrive. God, if he had to wait even longer to have Nick pressing him down into the mattress because she was too busy walking slowly in the hallways or whatever, he was going to scream. And not the kind of screaming he wanted to be doing right now.

Madame Bellemont finally arrived at half past two, their agreed upon meeting time, but Mark was still furious at her for being prompt. He rushed through the quiz, grateful that this subject at least he could breeze through and pass without much thought or studying. The oral part of the quiz, however, took a lot longer, because while he rattled on in French like a Frenchman straight from Paris, or so he thought, Madame Bellemont couldn't keep up with how fast he was talking. After he repeated his answers a dozen times, he was free to go and he rushed off to Nick's, parking haphazardly and flat out running over to Nick's door and using his key to unlock it.

As Mark flung the door open he was glad he caught the edge of it and slammed it closed as he stepped into the room, because Nick was pressed against him instantly, slamming him backwards against the closed door and moaning in longing.

"God, could have taken _any_ longer?" Nick demanded, his panting breaths brushing over Mark's throat as he started violently tugging at Mark's sweater. At this point Mark didn't even _care_ if the damn thing ripped, he just wanted to feel Nick's skin against his, to feel the heat of Nick's body pressing him down into the mattress. That was one thing Mark had learned in the past week, whether it meant that Nick was fucking him so hard that he had to press his hands against the wall to stop his head from hitting it as he slid up the bed, or if Nick's firm ass was slapping down against the top of his thighs, he _loved_ have the warm weight of Nick's body on top of him.

"I'm been hard all _day_ thanks to you, consider it _revenge_," Mark managed to gasp out as Nick tugged him towards the bed. And that's when he realized that Nick was already naked and hard. "_Fuck_, Nick."

Nick pushed him down onto the bed, yanking his boots and belt off him as Mark fumbled with his sweater and shirt and tossed them across the room. "Very funny, Sheme," Nick bit back, finishing the last word with a sharp nip on Mark's collarbone. "You better _still _be hard for me."

As Nick's hands unbuttoned his jeans and started shoving them down, Mark tugged Nick down on top of him and slammed their mouths together. "Only for you," he whispered against Nick's lips, lifting his hips to help Nick free his erection and legs. Nick pulled away to follow his jeans and underwear down his legs and Mark whimpered brokenly as they were tossed across the room and Nick settled down in his lap. He thrust his hips up against Nick, who bent his torso and shoved him hard down into the mattress.

Mark tangled his hands into Nick's curls as their mouths connected again, teeth clanking and short, panting breaths brushing over each other's lips. He heard the familiar sound of a condom package being ripped open and then Nick's mouth pulled away again and he cried out in frustration. At least until Nick's hand was sliding the condom down his cock and stroking him slowly. Mark propped himself up on his elbows and watched Nick fist his cock for a few moments, slowly thrusting his hips up into the tight grip. Nick fumbled for the bottle of lube Mark hadn't even noticed on the bed and dripped some onto the tip of Mark's cock, his fingers stroking over him and spreading it down his length.

Nick straddled his hips again, sucking softly at a spot along his sternum. "I'm already ready for you, baby," Nick murmured, dragging his tongue up Mark's chest and scraping his teeth over Mark's collarbone.

With a loud groan, Mark grabbed Nick by the hips and helped him rise up enough to align himself with the blunt tip of Mark's cock. Nick moaned above him, his head thrown back and eyes closed as he sunk down onto Mark's cock. Mark's hips bucked as soon as he felt the tight clench of Nick's muscles around him and he felt himself slid completely into Nick.

"Lie back," Nick commanded slowly, and Mark let his elbows slip out from under him as Nick's hands grabbed his shoulders and held him down. He let his hands settle on Nick's hips, feeling Nick shift slightly as he adjusted to the stretch. Nick slowly lifted himself up, pressing his knees into the bed and using his hands on Mark's shoulder to balance himself as he slammed his hips back down.

Mark moaned loudly as Nick started up a fast, hard pace, digging his fingers into Nick's ass and making his hips roll just slightly every time he sunk back down. Nick curled himself over Mark's body, gyrating his hips faster until the wet sounds of their flesh slapping together echoed around the room.

"Fuck, Mark," Nick grunted, tangling one of his hands into Mark's hair as he pressed his face against Mark's neck. "I'm so close already."

God, Mark loved everything about this. Loved the feeling of Nick around him and above him and against his sweaty body as they moved together. Nothing compared to how incredible he felt when Nick started to curl his upper body over him, and the movement of his hips started to become jerky and sporadic. His entire body pulsed and trembled whenever Nick tangled one hand into his hair and slid the other under his back, his panting, desperate breaths cooling the sweat beading on Mark's neck. He loved this feeling of Nick letting go and losing himself as he pushed himself closer to the edge, as Nick lost control of his pace and movements and Mark started to thrust up into Nick's heat, sliding a hand between them to stroke Nick's cock.

Nick shouted against his skin, rolling his hips backwards as Mark bucked beneath him. "Harder, Mark," he panted against Mark's neck. "Please, _harder_."

And even though his stomach was coiling tightly and his balls were tightening up as he started to come, Mark obeyed. He smacked his hips up hard, feeling his balls slap against Nick's ass and then he was coming, shouting loudly as Nick clenched up around his cock and bit down on his shoulder.

The warm, heat of Nick's come dribbled over his fist and onto his stomach as Nick collapsed on top of him. And as much as he loved having sex with Nick, these moments right after while they were both still winded and panting as their pleasure hummed through their bodies were blissfully breathtaking.

Mark loved the intimacy of these first few moments after – the soft brush of Nick's nose against his throat, the gentle humming murmur of Nick's voice. He'd never been more calm, or at home, or loved than he was then. It was right. It was so easy and natural the way their love settled strong and unwavering in his chest. The same way Nick's body relaxed into his embrace.

These were the moments when he saw and felt Nick at his simplest. The way nobody else had ever seen or felt him – the man even Nick couldn't yet fathom himself to be.

Even when the sweat and come started to dry between their chests, he couldn't bear to pull away because he knew to cherish how tightly their love gripped his chest and pulsed through him . That regardless of how dirty Nick talked or how hard he fucked him that those moments after were real in a way that nothing else in his life had ever been. There would never be another experience in his life as personal, intimate or powerful as what him and Nick shared together.

Nick slowly rolled off his chest and onto his back, his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply. Mark turned to watch him for a moment, smiling at the way his long eyelashes fluttered and the corner of his mouth crooked up in a little smile. He rolled onto his side and pressed a gentle kiss to Nick's shoulder, feeling Nick's arms pull him closer.

He sighed and nuzzled his cheek against Nick's chest, feeling the little, dark hairs brush again him. "You're getting so hairy," Mark told him quietly, and Nick pushed himself onto his elbows and glared at him. Mark grinned and laughed at how offended he looked. "I think it's nice," he assured Nick, who still glared at him.

"I'm going to turn into one of those fur rugs people put in front of their fireplaces," Nick said forlornly.

"At least you'll finally have a job then?"

"Shut up," Nick growled, and he suddenly sprung into action, rolling over and pinning Mark beneath him, his fingers wiggling against Mark's ribs. Mark gasped and tried to pull away as the howl of laughter forming in his chest exploded out of his mouth.

"B- B- Nick, stop!" he gasped out between shouts of laughter. He tried to wrestle free for a few moments, but Nick's body had sufficiently pinned him down. Maybe next year he'd take that weight lifting class, too. Then Nick wouldn't be so much stronger than himself even though Mark _was_ bigger.

Nick's fingers paused, and he bent his head and sucked softly on his lower lip. "What will you give me if I stop?" he asked sultrily.

When Mark took too long to answer Nick started tickling him again, and he was laughing and trying to roll away until something hard and cold brushed against his calf. He hissed loudly at the cold metal of Nick's ankle monitor even though he tried not to, but the damage was done. Nick had frozen above him, his hands gripping Mark's sides as he pushed himself up and turned around to sit facing away from Mark.

It wasn't the first time this had happened over the course of this past week. Usually Nick apologized and sunk down into his arms and refused to answer any of his questions or talk about it or do anything that didn't involve them being physical with each other.

Mark sat up slowly and scooted in behind Nick, watching the other boy pluck at a loose thread on one of the blankets. He knew Nick was avoiding this subject, and would probably continue to do so for a while. Nick's past was the last real barrier between them now, the last thing that kept him closed off and safe within himself.

"I know you want to tell me, even if you don't know how to yet," Mark said after a moment, instead of the same question he'd asked every afternoon for the past three days. He dropped his chin onto Nick's shoulder, and wrapped the other boy up in his arms. Nick's shoulder blades relaxed against his chest as he leaned back into his embrace.

"I... I want to share myself with you, _all_ of myself. It's just hard to... to talk about it."

"You don't have to, Nick," Mark said quickly. He almost wished he hadn't brought up the ankle monitor or everything he _didn't_ know about Nick, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering, from hoping that once he knew he could at least try to understand and be there for Nick. "I won't push you, no matter how much I want to know. Besides," he added with a flirty smile, "the mystery around you_ is_ part of the attraction."

Nick relaxed against his chest some more and laughed softly. "Sometimes," Nick murmured in his ear, "I think it's impossible to be as in love as I am with you."

Mark's heart jolted in his chest at Nick's words. "Talk to me when you're ready," he whispered in return. "I'll wait."

"I wasn't ready for anything until I met you, I think." Nick replied softly. He tilted his head to the side and brushed his nose against Mark's. "I'm still not sure I am, but... I trust you. I trust you completely."

Something heavy and warm seemed to drop into his stomach at Nick's words, and while he'd been thrilled when Nick had admitted to caring about him and then loving him, this was something so much more important to him. As far as he knew, Nick had trusted nobody since his mother had died, had had nobody worth trusting since the age of six. It was big step for Nick, and Mark was just glad he was the one Nick was taking it with.

Nick sat up a little straight in his arms and took a deep, steadying breath, clasping Mark's hands where they were resting around Nick's waist.

"She killed herself, you know," Nick began softly and Mark's heart turned to ice in his chest. "A... a lot of shit happened that year and she got really depressed. The meds they gave her weren't the right amount and they drove her nuts." Mark swallowed thickly, feeling the pressure already starting to build behind his eyes at the thought. He tightened his arms around Nick's body as Nick continued to talk quietly. "My grandfather sued the piss out of the pharmacy. They were out of business, like, six months later or something. I dunno."

When Nick didn't speak for a few moments Mark kissed him softly on the cheek. "I'm so sorry, Nick," Mark said sadly. "I– "

"I found her," Nick cut him off, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. "All covered in blood and cold. He was supposed to be home. _He_ should have been there to stop her, and then all he did was drink after. I spent the summer with my grandparents so he could get his shit straight and instead of him doing that he knocked some stupid woman up and sent her to pick me up after he married her."

Mark flinched slightly at how angry Nick sounded all of a sudden, how fierce his voice was and how tense he was becoming in his arms. Even without asking he knew who Nick was talking about. There was really only one person who made sense to fill that spot: Nick's father.

"Your grandparents had to have known he was still... that he wasn't stable," Mark put in, but he knew the thought was just wishful thinking. If they'd known they obviously hadn't cared.

"They talked to her more than him once she came around," Nick spat bitterly. "And _obviously_ if he was getting remarried to a nice, put together young woman it'd be fine for me to return. So she came to pick me up even though I had no idea who she was."

Mark shivered at the image Nick's words created in his mind, trying to imagine some new lady coming into his father's life after his mother had died. But the only woman he could picture was Carole, and he adored her. He'd known her before she'd even met Niall. There was no way he could picture his six year old self being left with either of his grandparents and then his father or them allowing some strange lady to pick him up.

"He was never there when he needed to be," Nick spat angrily. "I _hated_ him for years. And then the assholes at my middle school started trying to beat the shit out of me all the time because _everyone_ there knew my father was just a stupid drunk and that she was dead and that I was _gay,_" Nick twisted in his arms, pulling away and running a hand through his dark curls. "I took another boy to our school dance that year, and they beat me so badly I was in the hospital for a week."

Nick turned back to him, raising his arm to reveal the scar along his ribs that he'd never mentioned before. The one Mark had spent countless hours wondering about, but had never brought up because he feared Nick's reaction. "Metal pipe to the chest eight times. Broke two of my ribs so badly they punctured my lung."

Mark trembled as the horror of the situation consumed his mind. He'd been tossed in dumpsters and had his head shoved into a toilet, even had half a dozen slushies tossed in his face one day, but nobody had ever hit him. They'd all been too afraid to leave any damaging physical evidence of their violence. Nick lowered his arm back to his side and turned away again. Hot tears were forming in Mark's eyes and he couldn't even imagine how Nick was getting through this story without hitting something or sobbing himself hoarse. He didn't understand how it was possible for Nick to be able to just spit all of this out without breaking down on him.

"Once I got better, I let them have it," Nick said quietly, his eyes fixed on the blanket covering his lap. "One of their dads was some big fancy lawyer like my grandfather so he got them off from the charges. I was just..." Nick dug his hands into his hair, fingers scraping over his scalp as Mark tried to ease him back into his arms, but Nick yanked himself away from his grasp. "I was so fucking _done._ _Nobody_ cared. Nobody even stopped to _listen_ unless I punched some kid in my class or started fires in the trash cans in the bathrooms or stole things. I got them to chase me into the new construction site near the school and..." Nick's voice faded away and he slouched down slightly.

Mark's heart was thumping wildly in his throat, a few tears still glistening in his eyes as he finally found the courage to slide forward and pull Nick back into his arms. Nick put up a slight struggle to the embrace, but relented after a few moments. He knew what Nick was about to tell him – the assault and battery charge that he'd mentioned so long ago as a reason for his stint in juvie – but that didn't make it any easier to imagine. Nothing of what Nick had just told him was easy to swallow and accept, but this was Nick's _life._ And had been his life for years. But he wasn't going to be alone in this anymore. Not with Mark there.

Nick cringed as Mark held him tighter, but Mark refused to let him go. "Shhh," Mark murmured softly. "I love you. _Nothing_ you say right now is going to change that, Nick."

"I... I took a two by four from one of the stacks and broke the first one's legs," Nick said hollowly, almost as though just saying the words was transporting him back to that afternoon three years ago. "Broke the second one's nose and arm, and bruised his balls. T- the third guy, um..." Nick paused for so long Mark almost thought he wasn't going to continue talking at all, but then Nick shook his head slightly, and the anger returned to his voice. "He's the one who beat the shit out of me that night. The other two just held my arms against the wall. I just kept hitting him," Nick admitted, his body shaking against Mark's chest as the words spilled from his lips. "Anywhere, _everywhere_ I could reach and when I realized he wasn't moving I ran for it. They came and took me away the next morning," Nick finished. "There was a trial for it and all, but without my grandfather to plead my case... "

"Why– why wasn't he there?" Mark asked before he could stop himself. Even to his own ears it sounded more like a demand. He knew Nick's grandfather had turned on him this past summer when he'd found out he was gay, but that meant he wouldn't have known when this had happened. Yet he'd done nothing to help his grandson. Anger bubbled up in his chest at the thought of Cameron Atkinson. He'd already had enough of a reason to hate the man for what he'd done, but this...

"My father and him had a falling out a few years before that," Nick said with a careless shrug. "He wasn't part of my life again until he gained custody. He wouldn't have cared anyway. I'd have had to tell him I was gay for him to stand any chance of getting the charges dropped, and he would have dropped me without a second thought as soon as he knew."

Furious at Nick's words, at how sure he sounded and just how easily he let something like that go, Mark gritted his teeth and let Nick relax against his chest.

"They took me to juvie not long after," Nick said quietly. "My... my dad was crying when he last saw me on the way in. Like he'd finally come to his sense eight years too late. I'll... I'll never forget it, Mark," Nick whispered brokenly. "He kept apologizing and he was _sober_ and told me he was going to do whatever it took to get me out of there and make things right and I just... I _looked_ at him. The last thing I ever said to him was that I wish he'd never had me."

Nick sniffled a bit, and the sound surprised Mark so much he jerked a little bit.

"And then my grandfather got custody after he died and pulled some deal to get me out of there and into Dalton," Nick added as an afterthought, it seemed. His voice was dull and cracking and so lifeless that Mark's whole body ached at the sound of it. "The ankle monitor was part of the deal. He paid for it upfront for eighteen months and had a driver take me to Dalton. He had the location radius changed once he dumped me here.

"I didn't see him at all from the time I was locked up until I got expelled from Dalton. I haven't seen my– my sister in almost three years," Nick said, and if Mark hadn't been holding him so tightly at this point, he wouldn't have felt him trembling or noticed the tears glistening in his eyes as he struggled to continue speaking. "And all I could think about when he dropped me off here in May was how much I wanted my Mamma here. Or my Daddy. Either of them the way they used to be, you know?" Tears here silently coursing down Nick's cheeks as he started to shake violently in Mark's arms. "I just wanted him there to tell me he loves me and that it didn't matter if I wanted to kiss boys instead of girls, Mark," Nick hiccupped and Mark felt his own tears starting to fall as his throat constricted. "I just want them both here now to see how wonderful it is that I can love you. I don't want my sister to hate me or forget me because of my grandfather. I just want to take back everything that happened, so maybe my Daddy can love me the way he did when Mamma was alive, but I can't. He's dead. _They're_ dead, and all I want is for them to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight."

As the first sob broke past Nick's lips, Mark hugged him tighter and eased them backwards into the pillows until they were snuggled up together. He held Nick for a long time, listening to the shaky sobs and gasping breaths racking the other boy's body as they laid there. When Nick finally fell asleep, Mark wiped his nose on the edge of one of the blankets and then wrapped himself around Nick, never wanting to let him go.

The enormity of Nick's past settled on him like a pile of rubble. He'd imagined quite a few scenarios to fill in the gaping holes, but nothing his imagination had come up with could have prepared him for anything he'd just heard. Nick was so... he didn't want to say broken, because Nick was perfect to him just as he was. Angry, lost, upset, filled with so many repressed memories and thoughts and feelings that he was as unpredictable as a lightning bolt. It was only once he'd struck that Mark realized the damage that was done. Only once he'd made a huge, spontaneous appearance did Mark have any idea he was there at all.

He swallowed shakily and let his eyes drift shut as he curled up behind Nick. The same as every other afternoon this week, he'd set the alarm on his phone to wake them up so they could leave before the assholes that harassed Nick showed up. With that thought in mind he let himself fall asleep.

But it was Nick starling awake in his arms that roused them hours later. For a moment Mark wasn't sure why Nick had just bolted into a sitting position, but then the sound of the woman next door fighting to get her door to close echoed through the paper thin wall to them.

Without even looking out the window Mark knew it was well past the normal time they left Nick's. Judging from Nick's terrified look he'd realized the same thing. Mark watched him throw the covers off and tug his jeans on as he searched through the articles of clothing on the floor until he found Mark's pants.

"Your phone's dead," Nick said after a moment of fumbling with his pockets. Mark took his pants and phone from Nick silently and started to get dressed, stumbling around a bit in the dark room. Nick pulled back the tarp over his window a fraction of an inch to stare out into the parking lot as Mark tugged his boots on. Once Mark was fully clothed he moved over to Nick's side, keeping quiet so they could listen.

"Do you see anyone?" he whispered, and he hated how scared he sounded.

"No, it's empty," Nick informed him. "If she just got home then it's not even seven yet. They usually show up later on Fridays."

He let the tarp drop back over the window and slid his arms around Mark's waist. "If we hurry we should be fine," Nick said anxiously, and his eyes darted over to the bed and then to his mini- fridge. "We've sort of got a lot to carry, though."

"We... we do?" Mark asked in surprise, turning in Nick's arms and now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he noticed that the mini- fridge was actually unplugged and turned on its side with the door facing the ceiling. "Nick, are you– you're moving– I... you're sure?" he finally settled on.

"No," Nick said truthfully as Mark turned back around to face him. "I'm not sure of anything anymore, but your... your family seems to _like_ me. _I _like it there. I'm... I'm going home with you," Nick murmured, his gaze settling on Mark's. Hi eyes were bright and nervous. "F- for good."

Happiness exploded in Mark's chest as he leaned forward and crushed his lips against Nick's. He bounced on his toes as Nick returned his kiss eagerly.

"I guess you're a fan of the idea then?" Nick gasped as he pulled away.

"Absolutely," Mark practically squealed. "Let's fold all of the blankets up. We can stack them and the pillows on top and carry it all out."

Nick nodded and they quickly piled everything up, decided they'd have to come back for their school bags and any final little things, took another glimpse outside and then unlocked the door. He hoisted the fridge- blanket mountain up and carried it across the lot. They set the pile down next to the back-seat door and Mark dug his keys out of his pocket, clicking the auto- unlock button on his remote and pulling the door open. Together they stuffed the blankets inside and then shoved the mini- fridge in after it. It took a few minutes of maneuvering, but they finally got the door closed.

"It's a good thing I've got a Navigator," Mark said as they headed back to his room, stepping inside and shutting the door behind them. "That thing would never fit in a little sedan."

"No, probably not," Nick agreed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, grabbing his skateboard from the corner, and picking up the only thing left in the room of any value. He eyed the blown up photograph of himself and his mother and then pocketed it. The same photograph that had broken down the first of his defensive walls and let Mark have a glimpse at the boy he was.

"That's everything?" Mark asked him gently as he shouldered his own bag and ease his hand around Nick's elbow.

"Yeah, my books and everything were in the fridge," Nick said, staring around the room that had been his home for the past seven months.

"Come on," Mark whispered, kissing him on the cheek and pulling the door open. "Dinner's probably almost ready."

"I just... give me a moment," Nick muttered, tracing his hand over the shell of his dresser. Mark watched him as he took in the busted up mattress, the little lopsided end table, and the bright yellow paint on the wall over the bed.

"Nick, are you sure you're ready for this?" Mark asked hesitantly. He was thrilled that Nick seemed to have made the decision to finally accept their offer, but only if Nick was truly ready for it.

Nick sighed deeply and turned back to him, his face set and his eyes calm. "Yeah," he decided, stepping into Mark's arms and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm ready. Let's go."

A huge grin broke out across Mark's face as they stepped outside and shut the door. He turned back to smile at Nick, but his heart plummeted at the horror taking over his boyfriend's features.

"Duck!" Nick hollered, yanking him down and shoving him forward slightly as the crack of something metal collided with the brick wall between the door and the window. Mark whipped his head around in horror to see the four men who constantly hounded and tormented Nick, two armed with aluminum baseball bats, the other two with several brown bagged bottles. Even as his brain caught up with the scene Nick was already moving, spinning his skateboarding and smacking two of them in the face as he tugged Mark to his feet and shoved him towards the Navigator.

"Go, move!" he ordered. "Get in!"

Lungs searing from of the frigid air he was half- choking on, Mark fumbled for his keys to hit the auto- unlock. The sound of angry shouts and pounding footsteps followed after them as Mark hit the button. His lights flashed and it beeped in acknowledge as it unlocked for them, but then something strong latched onto his bag, tugging it right off his shoulder and knocking his keys from his sweaty hand. He stumbled, nearly tripping himself up as one of the men slung his bag to the ground, but Nick was by his side still and his fist connected with the man's face as he steadied Mark and urged him the final few feet to the driver's side door.

"Nick– "

"Run, Mark!" Nick panted, and some of his fear trickled away when Nick's hand slid into his and squeezed as they made it to the Navigator. It was only as he flung himself inside, and slammed and locked the door that he realized he'd dropped his keys, and more importantly that Nick had realized it as well. Instead of heading around to the passenger's side door like Mark had thought Nick was going to do he'd turned around and headed straight back towards the group, ducking one bat and skidding across the concrete towards the glint of metal.

Horrified at Nick's actions, Mark fumbled for the door handle, but the locks all slid shut as he finally managed to get a grip on it and pull. An icy fist closed around his heart as he yanked on it hard and tried to tug the door knob into the unlocked position.

Harsh laughter, the shatter of a beer bottle, and a cry of pain reached his ears, as the hand around his heart tightened. He stared out through the window, only to have something slammed right up against it a moment later. He shouted in distress, jerking backwards as the locks tauntingly unlocked and locked themselves again.

His entire body was trembling as the hand that had slapped against his window retracted and the man raised his other hand to show him his key ring. Blood was trickling down the man's face from the gash Nick's skateboard had left on his temple."Forget something, fag?"

Mark wanted to demand to be let out, to be given his keys back, but the shattering of another beer bottle against some part of Nick, and ensuing struggle of the other men as they dragged Nick over distracted him completely.

"Nick!" he shouted, tried vainly to get the door open, and this time he caught it just right when the man clicked the button.

Only for the other men to slam Nick face first against his door and knock it shut again. Mark heard the crunch of cartilage breaking as flecks of blood splattered across his window, and the fresh trails from the broken glass smeared. He wasn't going to sit here and do nothing, wasn't going to sit here with Nick's bloody face pressed right up against his window. He wasn't going to sit here and cry and stare into Nick's beautiful eyes while they beat him half to death.

Mark scrambled over the dash and into the passenger seat, but the man with his keys was already way ahead of him. As soon as Mark tugged the door open, the baseball bat hit it closed and knocked him backwards. He could feel the tears starting to cling to his eyelashes as the baseball bat cracked against the passenger side door again so he attempted to climb into the back-seat to try and get out to help Nick that way. But the mini- fridge, blankets, and pillows were towered so high he had no chance of fitting back there to get one of the doors open.

Nick yelped in pain behind him, and the entire Navigator shook as the men spun Nick around and slammed his back against the driver side door.

This time Mark couldn't hold back the choked, hopeless sob clawing up his throat. "Let him go!" he shouted, shifting back over to the driver side door and tugged futilely at the door handle. He was_ not_ trapped in here. Nick was going to be fine. Somebody would come out of their room and help him or call the police or just _anything_.

But as the two men struggled to hold Nick against the door the other man armed with the bat stabbed it forward straight into Nick's gut, Nick curled in on himself with a choked, gasping cry.

Let me _out!_" Mark screamed, pounding his fists against the window as his tears blurred his vision and the sound of the bat being swung whistled through the air. Another yell was ripped from Nick's body as the bat connected with his stomach.

Behind him the fourth man howled with drunken laughter and called tauntingly through the window as he messed with the locks again, "Bet he'd love to have that bat up his ass!"

Mark spun around so fast his neck cricked. He slammed his booted foot against the window the man's face was pressed against. A small crack appeared in the glass as he jumped backwards and growled in fury.

"Maybe we'll just have to stick this one up yours now instead of letting you watch and wait your turn, you fucking whore," he sneered, knocking the bat against the door again.

Mark had barely formed a retort when Nick shouted, his voice cracking and raw as Mark spun back around to see his face pressed sideways from the bat that had just connected with his cheek. Only he could barely make out the olive tone of Nick's skin through the blood covering the side of his face, could barely remember how that voice sounded when Nick told him he'd never been more in love than he was with him compared to the pain that was filling it now.

Every ounce of hope drained out of Mark's body as those unfocused hazel- green eyes caught his gaze and held it. The fist around his heart shattered, the icy remains lodging themselves into his heart. Nick's nose was crooked, dark trails of blood pouring from his nostrils and over his bloodied lips. His dazed, glassy eyes flickered up into his head before back down to Mark's gaze, some of the blood from the cut on his forehead trickling down into his eyes as he mouthed something to Mark.

Absolute panic flooded through Mark's mind as he managed to work out the last two words. _Love you._

The locks clicked tauntingly again. With a furious yell, Mark threw himself back against the passenger side door as the bat connected with Nick's face again. The man stumbled backwards as he flung the door open. Mark latched onto the bat in his hands as one of the men holding Nick let go and raced around to stop him from overpowering the surprised drunk. The other two circled around as well, letting Nick crumbled to the ground on the other side of the car as they tried to corner him.

Every part of Mark was filled with panic and horror as he tried to wrestle the bat from the man's grasp. Then the second bat came crashing down on his shoulder and knocked him to the ground with a howl of pain. His cheek smacked against the concrete and as his gaze settled on the motionless figure he could see on the ground on the other side of the car, another desperate plead for Nick to answer him fell from his lips.

"Nick, _please_."

Please what, Mark didn't know. Please say something, please move, please let me know you're still fighting. Please let me know I'm not alone...

And then the crunch of gravel against tires broke through the horror surrounding him. The men circled around him froze, and looked up as the blip of a siren started to echo around the dark parking lot.

"Fuck!" one of them bellowed and then they were scattering, two hopping the fence next to his Navigator and the others racing around it to try and escape through the main entry way.

Mark barely registered the shouts of more voices ordering the men to stop or freeze, or the crack of another bat and then the heavy thud of gunshots as he rushed over to the driver's side and dropped down next to Nick.

"Nick, baby, I'm- I'm here," Mark muttered as his breathing started to become erratic, his entire body shaking as his shoulder throbbed and refused to work properly.

Nick didn't answer him. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, the other cracked open and staring at nothing. His shirt was ripped and covered in dirt and blood; his face was covered in thick, warm blood that didn't seem to want to stop flowing out of him instead of through him. A sharp, wheezing whisper of air kept unsteadily pushing out of his mouth. It wasn't the reassuring breathing he had hoped to hear when he'd dropped down next to him. If anything, the sound of it terrified Mark even more, and he wished that Nick would move or flutter his eyelids or try to say something.

Mark found Nick's hand and gripped it tightly as he curled himself over Nick's torso and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Nick, _please_, don't– don't – "

He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't bear to think of what it would mean if he put the words out there into reality and gave them the chance of becoming true. The thump of more footsteps rushing towards them, and the bright flash of a light only made the boy he was staring down at look worse, more lifeless and bruised. More damaged and helpless than Mark had every wanted to picture him.

The fingers in Mark's hand twitched slightly as the gasping sobs started rattling in his chest. This wasn't how they were going to say goodbye, not now, not tonight, not _ever_. He wasn't ready for it. Carole signed off on her last patient's chart, and filed it away for when Doctor Burke made another round later in the evening. She stood up and stretched as her fellow nurses chattered around her at the nurse's station set up in the middle of the third floor. Almost everyone was sitting and catching up on various paperwork and patient- folders. For whatever reason, tonight had been very slow. Not that Carole wasn't glad for it, because that meant less people were injured or harmed in some way.

"You off for the night?" Sophie asked as Carole tugged her coat from the coat rack and pulled it on.

"I've got a group of men to get home to, and unless Mark got home in time to cook then I'm sure Nick and Jake are both curled up somewhere, sobbing from hunger pains," Carole said, smiling brightly at the thought of what she was going home to now.

A month ago she had been still returning to her tiny house with Jake. She'd being heading home to either cook something frozen, or to steal the last of whatever Jake had ordered for dinner. Now she went to Niall's home and spent the evenings with all four of her boys. Carole never would have imagined getting to laugh her way through making dinner with Mark or Nick or both of them, watching Nick and Jake battle it out on Jake's gaming system, or curling up with Niall in his lounge chair while Nick and Mark fell asleep on each other and Jake texted Sarah. Some days she was almost positive the life she was living now was the dream, and that when she went to sleep at night she was actually waking up in a reality where it was just her and Jake alone.

Two of the other nurses turned and laughed at her words.

"You and Niall are so smitten– "

"It must be crazy going from having one son to three– "

"It's worth it," Carole replied, wrapping her scarf around her neck carefully and grabbing her purse. "Nick's a very sweet boy. All of my guys are. I'll see you bright and early on Sunday!"

The other nurses waved and called out their own goodbyes for the night as she left the little station and headed towards the elevators. She'd barely made it two steps when a voice called out her name behind her.

"Carole! Wait!"

One of her closest friends and co-workers, Judy, jogged towards her. The stunned expression on the woman's face was more than enough reason for her to pause. A trickle of worry curled down her spine as she took in Judy's wide, horrified eyes and heavy breathing. Clearly, the other woman had come running from somewhere with something urgent to tell her.

"Oh, thank _god,_ you haven't left yet. We just got a call– "

Carole's insides frosted over. There was no reason she would be singled out about a call after her shift was done unless she was in some way connected to the person or persons involved. Only something near and dear and personal would create this reaction and her immediate thought was Niall. Even though he'd been doing so well these past two weeks, there was always the chance for complications or second attacks. There was still that lingering fear in her mind that he would relapse like so many other people did after a heart attack as severe as his.

"Niall had a- another heart attack? Are they bringing him here n– "

"Carole, it's not Niall," Judy said quietly and the tears glistening in the other woman's eyes made her throat constrict at all of the sudden possibilities whirling through her mind. If it wasn't Niall... she didn't even want to think about which of her boys it was. Though really, she was almost certain she already knew the answer to her unspoken question.

"There was some type of assault over on Thomas Street," Judy said bracingly, gripping Carole's arm tightly at she wobbled on her feet. But Carole barely heard anything beyond that. Nick's voice echoed through her head from weeks ago as she sat there and the horror seeped into her skin.

_"This isn't your little fantasy world where we live happily ever after or some other bullshit, "Nick snapped. "This is reality. This is what happens to guys like us."_

"Carole?" Judy called in concern, giving her a little shake and Carole snapped out of the memory, her breathing shaky as she listened to Judy repeat everything she knew so far.

Both Mark and Nick had been involved, along with four other men. One of her boys had sustained serious injuries, one of the men was dead, one was in custody, and the other two had escaped for now. She could barely process the words, it almost sounded like they were flowing into her ears through a fog, coming out gargled and distorted. Her mind was blank, numb. Not her boys. After everything they'd both been through on their own, and now together, they deserved to have peace in their lives. To enjoy the happiness it had taken them both years to find.

The other nurses at the station were dividing off and preparing to meet the ambulance at the entrance as Judy ushered her over to her desk chair and sat her down.

"Shh, sit down, Carole," Judy said soothingly and it was only when the other woman handed her a tissue that she realized she was crying. This couldn't be happening, there was no way this was real. The world wouldn't let those bastards win and destroy the first good thing Nick had had in years, or the boy Mark had been hoping and dreaming of for just as long. Not when they'd both fought so hard just to make it this far. There was no way it could all just come crashing down to turn into dust and vanish into the air like nothing had ever happened. It just _couldn't._

"I need to go meet them," she said slowly. She closed her eyes briefly and let her training and years of experience kick in as she wiped her eyes and stood up.

"Carole– "

"I _have _to be there for him_,_" Carole insisted, and which him it was that wouldn't be strapped to a gurney when they passed through those doors wasn't something she ever wished to find out. That didn't change the fact that in less than ten minutes she would. "Did they say who was badly hurt?"

"No. One with serious injuries to his head and chest, and the other with a few lacerations and a possible fractured clavicle."

Carole took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. First, she was going to help her boy, get him some x-rays, and calm him down. Once she knew more details about the second one's condition, she'd call Niall. It felt like a dagger had sliced through her stomach at the thought. What if it was Mark? Niall would be devastated as soon as he heard, might even have another heart attack for all she knew. He probably wouldn't fair much better if it was Nick being wheeled into the hospital. As awkward as some of his interactions with Nick were, she could tell how attached he'd already become.

God, this was too much and too horrible to fully process. She quickly followed Judy to the elevator and down to the Emergency Room entrance. As soon as they passed through the electronically locked door into the entry way she could see the ambulance, the siren off, but the lights still flashing. There was a rush of EMTs hopping out and pulling the back doors open. Two of them leapt in, and a moment later one returned, practically hauling Mark out of the ambulance. She didn't even want to think about what that meant for Nick.

"Nick– no! He _needs_ me!"

Carole rushed through the doors ahead of the rest of her colleagues as Mark, his right arm in a sling, tried to fight out of the EMT's hold in order to climb back into the ambulance.

"Mark, sweetheart, it's Carole," Carole took hold of his uninjured arm and cupped his face to make him look at her. "You need to let them do their jobs so they can help Nick."

"I– I– " Mark stammered, his eyes wild as tears streamed down his face. Two EMTs hopped out of the back as a gurney was pulled to the edge. Carole could just see Nick's form strapped down to the stretcher as they unlocked the wheels, pulled them down and rolled him quickly towards the doors as the doctors and nurses surrounded them, shouting directions and necessities as one of the EMTs explained what they'd deduced on the ride over.

As she held onto Mark's shaking body, the rest of them rushed past except for Judy, who stayed with her and Mark. Another ambulance pulled up behind the first, but the lights were off. A police car pulled up behind it and she knew immediately that whoever was in the back was already gone. The vindictive part of her sincerely hoped it was one of the assholes who had done this, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Carole, let's get Mark upstairs for a few x-rays, okay?" Judy encouraged gently.

Carole let her gaze return to Mark's tear streaked face as she slid an arm around his waist. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you checked out."

"But Nick," Mark choked out. "Is he– what's going– he's going to be all right, isn't he, Carole?"

"We'll find out once we get you patched up," she told him as they headed back through the doors and to the elevator.

She held him tightly as they headed up to the x-ray room. Mark trembled and shook and cried into her shoulder. She whispered softly to him while they x-rayed his shoulder, squeezing his other hand tightly even as her own tears fell. The image of Nick's unconscious body being rolled past them wouldn't leave her mind all throughout the x-rays and the trip back down to find a room for Mark. There'd been blood, but not as much as she'd imagined or seen with other people brought into the hospital. But it had still been painted over his face in streaks, the entire right side of his face had been bruised and swollen, and his curls had been matted with blood.

Judy finally found a nice room, big enough to fit a second bed once Nick was patched up, but the sight of an empty room and no sign of Nick sent Mark over the edge again.

"No! Where's Nick?" he demanded, trying to fight against them as they tried to settle him down into the hospital bed. His eyes were wild again, tears pooling in the corners, as he started to choke on his own sobs. "He's okay, isn't he? _Please,_ Carole, _please..._"

The pleading tore straight through her heart, and the fact that she still didn't have any answers made her stomach clench and ache at the thought of what might be waiting for her upstairs when she went to check. The idea of having to return to Mark's bedside and tell him something so horrific, so devastating and life- altering made her feel like she was breathing in poisonous gas. Every breath hurt, and her lack of answers only made Mark's terror worse. He was hyperventilating and sobbing when Judy returned with a mild sedative for him. She stayed by his side until he drifted off to sleep. For now he was calm and relaxed, something Carole knew he desperately needed to be until she called Niall or until she knew if Nick was still alive.

Carole headed up to the ICU and surgery unit floor, every step heavy and difficult as she headed for the nurse's station. Regardless of what she was told next she knew the answers would be painful and difficult for the others to swallow, even herself if things were worse than she'd originally thought. As a nurse she was beyond used to these types of situations in her day to day routine, but she knew the others weren't. They didn't have a place where they went to detach themselves from the situation the same way she did because of her job. Still, everything was so unexpected. Everything they'd been working towards could very well change in the next few moments. The boy she'd grown to love as much as her own son could be gone before she'd had the chance to really get to know him, or tell him that she remembered him from so long ago. When she reached the end of the hallway from the elevator that emptied out into the central hub, she found Sophie set up at the nurse's station making a phone call that sounded important.

"... yes, he was just brought in an hour ago, Mr. Atkinson. He's still in surgery unit five... "

Carole froze at her words, realizing instantly who Sophie had called. Nick's grandfather must still be listed as his primary emergency contact. She let Sophie finish the conversation before asking about Nick's situation.

"He's still in there. They found some minor internal bleeding around his appendix and it was bruised pretty severely so they're removing it. Stitched up the gashes on his head. Once the swelling goes down around his eye he'll probably need some type of surgery to fix his eye socket. They won't know the extent of that injury until he's awake and some of the swelling goes down. He's got a ruptured eardrum, and a broken nose. Several broken or bruised ribs and quite a concussion. We'll have to wait and see how he is when he wakes up before anything can be assessed with brain trauma, but there's no swelling that they've detected so that's good news."

Carole melted into the seat next to her as she tears started up again. Nick was alive. Her chest constricted as she choked up and hugged herself. She'd never been more thankful to hear such a list of injuries, because she knew it could be so much worse. There was still the risk of brain injuries, and the worries about his eye, but everything else would heal with time, though there may be a few lasting effects beyond some scars. Nick wasn't done with them yet, wasn't going to give up or give in to what those men and the world wanted from him.

"Thank you," she muttered sincerely. "Do you know how much longer they'll be?"

"Another hour maybe?" Sophie guessed. "They're cleaning him up and wrapping his ribs, then checking everything a final time before they move him. Mark's in 346C, right?" Carole nodded as she dabbed at her eyes. "I'll have them move him into the same room so you and Niall don't have to shuffle back and forth all night."

She turned to head back to Mark's room, but Sophie called after her, sounding hesitant and worried.

"His grandfather didn't seem very... concerned over the phone," she started. "I'm not even sure he's coming or if any of you will want him to– "

"Nick won't. Neither will Niall, I'm sure," Carole replied evenly. "You know what happened with them, but I know how protocol works and that he had to be contacted, Sophie. Don't worry about it, okay? We'll deal with him _if_ he shows up."

"I'll give you a heads up if he signs in," Sophie said, standing to give her a brief hug before Carole went back to Mark's room. Mark's arm was still in a sling, his bloodied shirt draped over the bedside chair and his clavicle now covered in a dull bluish bruise, but he was still out from the sedative. With a heavy sigh, Carole settled down into the chair and picked up the phone on the bedside table, dialing nine and then Niall's house number.

Niall grumbled mutinously as he struggled through the simple stretching exercises his doctor had given him to start out with. It wasn't that he hated exercise or anything, but _stretching_! He was terrible at stretching. He glanced at the clock as he half- heartedly bent to touch his toes and a trickle of annoyance ran down his spine. _Everyone_ was late tonight.

Jake had a football game, of course, and Carole's shift was probably running late because of an emergency, but Mark and Nick had no excuse. Especially if the only answer he got for the fourth night in a row was something vague about "studying at Nick's". He wasn't stupid, he knew that was code for having sex, no matter how much he didn't want to think about it. He'd still rather have them here, even if he _didn't_ want them doing that in his house, he knew somehow they'd have to all agree on some way for everything to work. Here they were safe, whereas Nick's apartment, even with the locks, was a whole world of potential trouble.

Frustrated that he couldn't reach his toes, Niall stood up straight and checked his cell phone where he'd left it on the coffee table. No new messages from Mark saying he'd be late. He hoped they'd all hurry up, because after dinner he was finally sitting Mark and Nick down to discuss house rules. It had taken him a few days of hard thinking and planning, and he was going to get their opinions (within reason) to get it set into something solid, but he thought he'd started a good foundation for it. Hopefully, Carole would be home by then as well. Between his temper and awkwardness addressing his son's _sex life_ and Nick's asinine comments, he didn't think they'd get very far very smoothly without her there to mediate.

Niall tucked his phone into his pocket and shuffled off to the kitchen to figure out something healthy for dinner when the house phone rang. He spun around and headed back to the island counter to grab the cordless phone, ready to get angry with Mark for being even later than the night before, but the number was the hospital's. It wasn't that unusual since cell phones weren't allowed in the hospital, but it wasn't Carole's typical extension either. He didn't think much of it as he picked up.

"Hey," Niall greeted. He shuffled back to the healthy food chart set up on the freezer door and picked out something that sounded simple. "Got busy, did it? How do you make– " he squinted at the chart "Vegan chicken alfredo? Ugh, why does it all have to be ve– "

"Niall, there's been an incident," Carole's shaky voice said through the phone, and Niall froze, his heart plummeting at her words. If something had happened to Mark– "Mark's _fine_. He's going to be fine," she continued immediately, but the way she'd said that second part set him on edge.

Going to be fine implied that there was a reason Mark shouldn't be, or that something had happened to him, but it wasn't drastic or wasn't the real reason she'd called. There was something major she was about to tell him and he dreaded whatever it was she said next. Because he knew from these past few weeks that Mark and Nick were almost always together, and if there was a reason that he needed to be told that Mark was fine, then there was a reason that Carole had to assure him that Nick was fine as well. Only she hadn't. She hadn't mentioned Nick yet, and the thought that she'd given him the good news first to try to ease whatever was next terrified him.

"What happened to Nick?" he demanded hoarsely, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table and resting his head in his hand as his heart pounded and his head shifted between fuzzy and clear. Two hours could have passed in the few seconds he'd paused to ask that question, or time could have run backwards on him and dumped him back into the middle of his stretching exercises. Nothing was going to make sense until Carole told him the rest of this. Until he knew what he was dealing with and the fear curling in his chest sunk back beneath the surface until the next time something happened to his guys.

"Those men were there when they left Nick's apartment," Carole started, sniffling a bit. Niall could just picture her curled up in a chair somewhere, tucked away from prying eyes and trying her hardest to keep herself together. "I'm not sure about the details. The cops haven't stopped by to question Mark or anything yet. He's fine. He's sleeping next to me, but... they hurt Nick. _Badly_. He's still up in one of the surgery units."

"But he's... he's going to all right?" Niall asked, taking a deep breath and heading to the front door. He tugged his coat and shoes on as she explained what she knew of his condition, trying his best to steady himself as she soothed him while he choked up through the crackling phone line.

"I'll be there soon," he told her, shutting the front door behind himself and getting into his truck. A dull throbbing panic was gripping his chest, but Carole needed him. Mark – god, Mark needed him more than anything right now. They'd been strong for each other and strong for him when he'd had his heart attack, and not it was his turn to return the favor.

"They'll be fine. _Both_ of them."

"I know," Niall replied. "It's just so unfair."

Niall was silent for a moment as he started his truck and backed out of the driveway. In the back of his mind he knew he should have seen it coming, at least the probability of it happening. Just seeing how those men were one time had told him they were trouble. His only hope had been Nick settling in with them permanently before things would escalate, but it hadn't happened. He'd expected something to happen with them, and he hated that he felt like he could have prevented it. But Nick was his own man, and he wasn't Nick's guardian. Mark wouldn't have listened to him, no matter what the threats had been, if Nick had continued to go there.

"I'm on my way. I love you," he told her before he hung up.

Niall drove as fast as he dared, parking in the first spot he found and rushing into the emergency room waiting area. Carole was waiting by the front desk for him, and she flung herself into his arms.

"I'm so glad you're here," she mumbled as she ushered him through the electronically locked door and to the elevator. "Mark's still asleep from the sedative, but he should be awake soon. Nick's... he's still upstairs. They've removed his appendix because it was so bruised. He has a ruptured eardrum, a broken nose, several broken ribs but he seems stable, at least until more can be assessed when he wakes up. They'll have to do more surgery eventually – just the eye socket once the swelling goes down, don't worry." She squeezed Niall's hand as he frowned.

He breathed in a shaky breath and tried to steady himself. He could scarcely picture what Carole had told him – couldn't even begin to imagine the horror two of his boys had just gone through. He'd never wanted anything like this to ever happen to Mark, even though part of him had realized it was almost inevitable when Mark was as open as he was in a town like Lima.

He followed Carole down the hall towards the nurse's station as she pointed him towards the first door past it on the left. They were two feet from the door when a deep, bored voice behind him caught his attention.

"– No, Carl, I need them on my desk _tomorrow_– yes, I'm here to see my grandson."

Carole froze next to him, but she didn't seem as surprised as him when they turned around. It was the man's voice that had really caught his attention. The same smooth, deep tone of Nick's voice, more crisp and clipped, but still distinct to his ears.

The older man standing at the nurse's station looked nothing like Nick in his expensive suit and overcoat. He tapped his fingernails on the counter impatiently as the nurse asked, "What's his name, sir?"

"Carl, I don't care what you have to do– "

"Carl, what, sir? Last names are easier to search by," the nurse told him, pursing her lips in irritation. "There's also a no cell phone policy in the building. I'm going to have to ask you to turn it off, sir."

Dark anger clawed at Niall's insides as the man's hazel- green eyes – the same eyes that Nick had inherited – narrowed and he glared at the woman. "Not, Carl," he snapped. "My grandson, Nick Atkinson."

Carole's arms circled around his bicep as he lurched forward, but he wasn't going to let this go. Let this _bastard_ anywhere near Nick after everything he'd done to his grandson. "Let me go," he told her, tugging his arm free and marching back towards the desk as Cameron Atkinson hung up his cell phone.

"Is this phone policy really necessary? I have important business– "

"More important than your _grandson_?" Niall snarled angrily, jabbing the man in the shoulder with a finger as Carole raced after him and tried to hold him back. "That boy should be your entire world."

"Niall, _please–_ "

"No," he snapped, tugging his arm free from Carole's grasp once more. "He's ruined enough of Nick's life, he's not waltzing back into it and making it worse again. Not after all of this."

Cameron Atkinson eyed them appraisingly for a few moments as the nurse – Niall thought her name was Lorie, but she wasn't one that Carole was close with so he wasn't sure – gaped at them. The man flashed her a charming, reassuring smile, probably meant to soothe her worries, but to Niall it was the emptiest smile he'd ever seen. His eyes glinted in the artificial lights, and while they may have been the same color as Nick's, they had none of his warmth or love.

"And _who_ exactly are you? I don't believe you've ever met me _or_ my grandson," Cameron said with authority, eyeing Niall's worn jeans, flannel shirt, and baseball cap. It was a look Niall was overly familiar with, someone judging his wardrobe and appearance or his life's work to mean he was somehow less than able or intelligent in some way. Another hot wave of anger washed over him as he hands curled into fists at his sides. He'd only heard one simple story about the man, but he'd already pegged him as a disgusting excuse for a human being. Everything about the man in front of him only confirmed his thoughts. He wasn't hysterical or worried or here because he cared. He was here to save his own skin and then drop Nick like he was nothing all over again.

"Oh, really? How's he doing in school then? If you live with him then aren't you the least bit concerned that he hasn't been home in almost a week? Why don't you explain to me why _your_ grandson has all but moved into my house?" Niall demanded as Carole tried once again to prevent him from tackling the man like he so desperately wanted to.

"That's preposterous," Cameron said loftily. "The boy's been living on Thomas Street since we moved here– "

"Living by himself, you mean," said a voice from behind Niall. They all turned to find Jim Ferguson, and another cop, a higher level officer by the looks of him, standing just behind them, watching the exchange closely.

"Of course he's not living alone," Cameron said in exasperation. "I can't be there every night because of distance and work. I've arranged for Milton, the landlord, to look after him when I'm not there. I know him personally, since he rented the plot of land from me years ago. Clearly, Nick's been getting into more trouble and Milton isn't doing what is expected of him. Rest assured I'll be pressing charges against him for it."

The outright lie was what did it for Niall. Nick had done nothing to attract those men's attention in the first place. That had been Cameron's doing by leaving him there and talking loud enough for them to hear. And even if the part with the landlord was true, that didn't change the fact that he'd failed to check up on Nick since _May._ Anger completely taking over, Niall lurched forward to shove the older man, but Jim stepped in and held him back even as he fought against his hold.

"Niall, stop!" Jim demanded sharply. "This is only going to make everything ten times worse."

Cameron straightened his coat, looking at all four of them with disdain. "Excuse me, while I go call the babysitter watching my granddaughter. " With a curt nod he pulled a little business card from his pocket and handed it to Carole. "If there's anything else you'd like to discuss, make an appointment."

With a final look, Cameron Atkinson walked briskly down the hall back to the elevator.

"That's his grandfather, then?" Jim muttered as Niall relaxed in his tight hold. "Definitely not a friendly man, is he?"

Niall just growled in reply to his words as Jim released him. He was seething at the encounter with that man. Why the hell had he even bothered showing up when it was so obvious he didn't care? Was he only here for some quick damage control before he dumped Nick off somewhere else? Perhaps he was even going to remove Nick from Lima permanently. The thought of how Mark would react to that made his heart jolt painfully in his chest. His hand shot up to clutch the spot on instinct and Carole gasped in terror.

"Niall, you need to relax and calm down. Your heart can't take all of this stress, honey." Carole's arm wrapped around his waist as she ushered him towards Mark's room. "Come on, let's get you off your feet."

He let Carole and Jim help him into the room. The first thing he saw was his son, sleeping soundly on the hospital bed, his bloodied shirt draped on the chair and his right arm in a sling. There was a little scrape on his left cheek, and some bruising along his collarbone, but otherwise he looked fine. The same way he'd looked when he'd broken his arm in fourth grade. Only he wasn't a little boy anymore, even if he would always be Niall's little boy. He was nearly an adult, who had just been through all sorts of hell and watched the man he loved almost beaten to death. He let out a choked sigh, and settled down into the chair next to Mark's bedside, watching his son's chest rise and fall slowly and evenly as he rested.

"We had to give him a sedative to calm him down," Carole said as she rubbed his shoulders soothingly. "He'll be out for another hour at least. Any heart flutters or pains? Should I call the doctor?"

"No, no, just got too worked up," he muttered. Niall hated how weak and useless he felt right then. He wanted to be the protector, the defender, the one strong for the people he loved and kept by his side. Yet he couldn't even defend his boys without almost putting himself right back in the hospital. "If he comes back I am not letting him into this room."

"You can't legally stop him," Jim said sadly. "If you push him, he could have all three of you removed from Nick's room and life permanently. At least until Nick wakes up and can speak for himself."

"I'd like to see him try and stop Mark," Carole said. Niall followed her line of sight to his son's sleeping form. Nothing would keep him from Nick. He was certain of it. He'd never imagined his son finding a love quite like the one those two shared. At least not when he was so young. "You should ask the men who did this to them about the day Cameron dropped Nick off," Carole told Jim and the other officer. "Mark said Nick told him they were there and heard the whole exchange."

"Their word won't count for much. The rest of his neighbors aren't looking too promising either," the second officer told them. "They've all got records, some of them were even prosecuted by Cameron Atkinson. Their words won't hold up in court."

"No, she's got a point," Jim countered. "The men who did this wouldn't want to make Nick's life any easier by getting his grandfather out of the picture. If they gave a statement then you might at least be able to make a case."

"They're _drunks_, Jim," the other man retorted. "And half of the judges are in that man's pocket. Every officer in Ohio knows that." He shook his head and sighed resignedly. "I'll be back once Atkinson's out of surgery. We've got to handcuff him to his bed until they sort out everything at the station."

"You've got to _what_?" Niall spluttered, trying to rise to his feet, but Carole and Jim both forced him back down.

"It's standard procedure, unfortunately. The hospital is out of his ankle monitor's radius, so coming here set it off. Obviously there's good reason for it, but until everything's sorted and it's clear that Nick didn't provoke them, then it has to be done. We'll probably have to have an officer stationed outside the door as well."

"But, there's no way he would have– "

"His record's against him," Jim cut in. "We'll do our best to get it sorted out right. He's only supposed to have the thing for another three or four weeks, according to Robinson back at the station, but for now we've got to follow protocol."

Niall sunk down into his chair, staring at Mark's peaceful face. Everything was a mess, a disaster. If just one little thing didn't go right, Nick could very well end up back in a juvenile detention center, or Cameron could remove him from the area permanently. For the first time in a long time, he honestly had no idea what to do.

Jim and the other officer left them alone and Carole sat down on the arm of his chair. As she hugged him around the shoulders, he could feel her trembling. All of the possibilities were terrifying and overwhelming. They'd built up so much around Nick these past few weeks – Mark's entire life had become centered around him – the thought of him being taken away for good was too much to bare.

They sat there together for what felt like hours as they waited for Doctor Burke to come by with news of Nick. Carole took a few minutes to call Jake's cell phone and leave him a message explaining what had happened and where they were. Niall could barely even imagine what his reaction would be once his football game was over and he changed into his normal clothes, dug his phone out of his pocket and heard the news.

He wasn't surprised that Cameron never returned. Like Carole had said, the man had probably only shown up to "make an appearance" so things didn't look suspicious. Niall didn't doubt that she was right. His only hope now was that the man could either be charged with child neglect and abandonment, or that he never showed his face around here again. It was half past nine when there was a knock on the door and a woman, who introduced herself as Doctor Burke, entered the room.

Besides telling them that Nick had pulled through everything fine, she had little more to add to what Carole had already told him. He was critical, but stable, with no sign of any brain swelling so far. She spent a few minutes giving them a brief idea of Nick's recovery timeline and then bracing them for how bad his face looked right now, for when they wheeled him in and set him up in the room.

The moment Niall caught sight of Nick's bandaged and bruised face he had to fight down the urge to gag. His mind created a few fleeting terrible images of how the injuries had occurred, but it was still difficult to comprehend. Just this morning Nick's face has been clean-shaven, and smiling. Now the entire right side, Nick's left, was swollen and an angry, blotchy blackish- purple. There was a bandage covering his ear, a lot of padding pressed into his left eye that was held down by a dressing wrapped around his head tightly, and his cheekbone was sunken in. His nose had been set, but was swollen and bruised, and the eye that Niall could see was surrounded by a dark bruise ring. His lips were puffy and the lower one was split.

"He's on a lot of pain medications right now, and I went ahead and numbed his face, just in case he does wake up," Doctor Burke explained as she checked the various monitors he was hooked up to. "At the earliest he'll probably wake up briefly sometime tomorrow afternoon. We're pumping him full of sleeping medications until the worst of the pain has subsided, though we can only do that for the first six to twelve hours. Anything longer could cause problems. His ribs;" she pointed to the same side that had taken most of the damage on Nick's face, " two broken and one bruised on this side. And two bruised on the other. We've wrapped them, and it's _very_ important that he doesn't try to sit up or move a lot," she stressed.

"Thank you, Ruth," Carole murmured as she sat down on the edge of Nick's bed and took hold of his hand.

"I'm going to go look at Mark's x-rays and I'll be back to set his shoulder or wrap it once he's awake, okay?"

Niall nodded jerkily as he stared down at Nick's small, unmoving form. He barely recognized him with all of the bruises and bandages in the hospital gown. A voice in the back of his head, that sounded suspiciously like Mark, told him the gown was tacky and horrible with Nick's skin tone. With a watery smile he glanced back over to Mark, still sleeping soundly, and breathed in deeply.

His boys were safe for now, even if Cameron Atkinson returned. They were going to be okay somehow. He'd make sure they would. The first thing Mark became aware of was a hand clutching his left hand tightly, and a thumb brushing back and forth over his knuckles. His mind felt numb and his shoulder was still throbbing dully as he attempted to crack his eyes open.

"I think he's waking up... Mark? Buddy, can you hear me?"

His dad was here, then. Mark groaned a little in acknowledgement and finally managed to open his eyes some. Even the effort of getting them open a centimeter was too much. He wasn't sure why he was so tired, or why he felt like someone had filled every inch of his body with wet cement, but a second, softer hand brushed his hair off his forehead. A whiff of vanilla and cherry hit his nostrils. Carole was here, too.

"Open your eyes for us, Mark."

That voice was unfamiliar to him. It was a woman's voice, but definitely too high and crisp to be Carole. Carole repeated the words the woman had just said, and his curiosity pushed him on. After a few moments of struggling, he blinked slowly and looked around. Everything was blurry at the edges of his vision, but after a few more blinks, things began to come into focus and with the clarity came the much sharper spikes of pain prickling under the skin over his collarbone.

"Ouch," he moaned faintly.

"Hey," Niall said softly and Mark looked up to see his father's relieved face swim into view.

"Dad," he croaked. "Wus goin' on?"

"Doctor Burke's here to wrap your shoulder and check it out," Niall explained as he helped Mark into a sitting position.

At his father's words, Mark glanced down and the sight of his arm in a sling – the bruises across his collarbone – made everything come flooding back. The shockwave of fear that had pulsed inside his chest, the frantic rush to his car, the shattering of glass against bone, and then the high, piercing ping of the aluminium bats against Nick's body. His boyfriend's bloody face flashed through his mind and he was suddenly wide awake and terrified.

"Where's Nick?" he demanded, moving to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but they hit his father in the chest and were pushed back to their previous position.

"Relax, Mark, he's going to be fine," Niall rushed to reassure him. "He's resting right now."

"But where– "

"He's right over there," Niall told him, pointing across Mark's chest to the far side of the room. Mark followed his father's arm and saw a second hospital bed set up about six feet away from his own. His heart jolted in his chest at the sight of Nick's dark curls and the bandages wrapped around his head, ear, and eye. The rest of him was covered by a hospital gown and blankets, but just the sight of him, and the steady blip of his heart monitor gave him some peace. Nick was here with him, was still living and breathing and loving him. He was going to be all right. He had to be.

"We'll let you get up and sit with him after you let Doctor Burke look at your shoulder, okay, buddy?" Niall swept back the hair that had fallen back into his eyes and kissed his forehead. The gesture made Mark choke up a little. It had been _years_ since his father had done something like that. It wasn't that they weren't close now. It was just something he'd stopped doing once Mark had hit middle school and starting branching out on his own.

Mark nodded, his eyes still focused on Nick across the room, as the second woman, Doctor Burke, introduced herself and asked to look at his shoulder. His lack of response made his father poke him in the cheek and he was forced to look away from Nick to focus on the doctor's questions.

"First, we need to make sure none of your nerves were damaged by your bone fracturing. I'm going to press in on a few different areas and I need you to tell me if you can feel it, okay, Mark?"

Mark nodded a little and looked down and to the right to watch as she pressed a finger gently into his skin. She was very thorough, making his father help him sit up so that she could press at spots along the back of his shoulder. He was relieved that he could feel all of it, until she moved back to his collarbone and brushed a finger over the knot that had formed over the break.

A sharp hiss of pain whistled out between his teeth.

"Sorry," she apologized. "You've got a broken blood vessel on the underside of the bone. They hit you from above and over the shoulder?" she asked, moving in closer to examine the spot.

Mark squirmed a little under her gaze, and muttered, "Yeah, with a bat."

Doctor Burke hummed softly at his words and moved over to the table next to the bed. She picked up a big envelope that Mark hadn't noticed before and opened it, holding the x-ray up to the lights so that he could see. "It's a clean break, fortunately, though this bone end," she pointed to the bone piece closer to his actual shoulder, "has shifted quite a few inches out of place. The best option," she said, turning to look at them all. "Is going to be a simple out- patient surgery. Nothing extravagant. We can even do it later tonight once Doctor Fuller comes in. He's the best at this one."

"S- surgery?" Mark echoed in terror. "But it's just a broken bone– "

"It's a very simple procedure, Mark," Carole cut in gently. "I've helped with them a hundred times before. The sooner they do it, the sooner it can start to heal properly."

"It'll be all right, buddy," Niall agreed. "I had the same thing back in my football days. It's why I never made it past high school leagues."

Mark snorted lightly, then swallowed thickly and nodded. "Okay, what exactly are you going to do?"

For the next ten minutes, Doctor Burke explained the procedure and the timeframe for his healing and the physical therapy he would need after. The only thing Mark wasn't okay with was leaving the plates and screws in after it was healed. He understood the necessity to use them to hold his bone in place to heal properly, but he did not want it setting off metal detectors for the rest of his life. Doctor Burke actually agreed to his decision, and told him they would still need to stay for several months after everything was healed so that his shoulder could regain mobility and strength.

All in all he thought he'd gotten off fairly easy. Six to eight weeks in a sling with his shoulder wrapped up tight, a month of physical therapy depending on how he progressed, and then a second surgery to remove the hardware once everything was healed. He'd be left with a small scar under the break and nothing more But from what his dad and Carole explained after Doctor Burke left to set up his procedure, Nick would have a lot more to mark the encounter on his body for the rest of his life. There were some parts of his condition even Doctor Burke wasn't certain about at this point, mainly his eye and potential brain trauma. As they helped Mark out of his bed and to Nick's bedside, Carole and Niall cautioned him about how bad Nick looked right now.

But their words didn't prepare Mark for what he saw. His vision blurred as he finally got his first real glimpse of Nick's swollen and bruised face. Somehow the result of what he'd been subjected to watching was even worse than the flashes of the attack that were going through his mind. The image of Nick's bloody face pressed up against his window, his trembling breaths fogging up the window as the bat whistled through the air–

"Woah!" Niall said in alarm as he swayed a little and started to tear up. Mark felt his father help him into the chair next to them, but he couldn't understand half of the words whispered to him soothingly. He should have done more to help Nick, to get out of the car or not let him go back for the keys. Should have made Nick wait around for him after school so they could go home together instead of to that wretched apartment. Anything that would have reversed this situation or protected them both until the cops had come by.

Both Carole and his father leaned down next to his chair and hugged him tightly until his sobs subsided. When he was calm enough they slowly explained each of Nick's injuries and how he probably wouldn't wake up until sometime late tomorrow. But the more they said the heavier the dread in Mark's stomach got. If the doctors found something was seriously wrong once Nick woke up, Mark didn't know what he would do. Mark felt hollow at their words. Physically, Nick would end up being fine, but what if something in Nick's brain was damaged now? What if he forgot everything about what they shared? Or worse, what if he remembered and shut himself off from Mark again? Cut Mark and his family from his life completely because being happy and opening himself up had once again ended with him in terrible pain.

Mark sniffled a bit as Carole kissed him on the cheek and dragged one of the other chairs over to sit with him as Niall did the same. He reached out and took Nick's hand, having a weird sense of déjà vu from when his father had been here not even a month ago. Like with his father, the hand remained motionless and limp in his grasp, but that only made him clutch it tighter. Nick was still warm against his fingers, his pulse still beating along his wrist as he sat there with him.

"I remember the last time I was in a hospital with him," Carole said from his side, reaching up and grasping their clasped hands.

"W- what?" Mark stammered, choking a little on his renewed tears. God, he was a mess.

Carole turned to him, and offered him a watery smile. There was something in her eyes, different to anything he was used to seeing directed at Nick. Mark wasn't sure what to call it. There was an overwhelming number of motherly undertones, almost the same look she had when Jake did something that reminded her of him as a young child, but there was a haunted quality to it. Almost as if she was seeing past Nick's facade and the boy he was to the little boy he used to be – the person he could have been if things had been different, but that had been slowly coming to life before her eyes with every day that passed.

"Before we moved to Lima, me and Jake lived near Westerville. I used to work at the hospital out there," Carole started. "I was there the day his mother was brought in. He was there, lost in the halls, looking for his father," Carole paused to wipe her eyes and allowed herself a little bubbly laugh. "I can't believe I didn't put it together when I saw the picture of him and his mother, but it was such a long time ago and I only met him for fifteen minutes. There's always little kids wandering off in a hospital, but I remember him. He was the sweetest little boy... "

Mark stared back into her eyes in amazement. He found it almost impossible to believe, but Carole wouldn't lie about something like this. She'd never lie to him about anything. He glanced at Nick's unconscious form, wondering if he even remembered that part of that day. After the story Nick had told him earlier he didn't think a six year old boy's memory would have had room for much more than the tragedy he'd come home to that afternoon.

"You– "

The door to the room creaked open behind them. Jim Ferguson and a second officer stepped into the room.

"Hey, Mark," Jim greeted as they closed the door. "How's your shoulder?"

Still focused on what Carole had just revealed to him, Mark stared up at him blankly. He hadn't heard a word the other man had just said.

Luckily, Niall supplied the answer for him. "He's gonna need some surgery to put his bone right, but nothing too bad."

"That's good," Jim replied. He bit his lip and Mark suddenly knew why they were here. They wanted his statement about everything that had happened – wanted him to relive what was now one of the worst moments of his life. "Mark, we were hoping we could talk to you about what happened? While it's still fresh? We can come back in the morning if you want."

"N- no," Mark stammered nervously. He took a deep breath. As much as he didn't want to think about it or relive it, he also realized the sooner it was done the sooner those men could be charged and put away. "I'll tell you everything now."

"Okay," Jim said as the second officer pulled a notepad and a pen from his pocket and took a seat on the edge of his empty bed. "First, I just want you to tell us everything starting from say... when you and Nick left school?"

"All right," Mark agreed. Carole clasped his uninjured hand and gave him an encouraging nod as he took a deep breath to steel his nerves for what he was about to talk his way through.

The first part was easy enough as Mark explained how Nick had left first since Mark had had a French test to make up. He glossed over the specifics of what him and Nick had gotten up to, making it sound like they'd fallen asleep while sitting around doing homework or something, and then woken up late because of his phone dying. He hoped nobody would question that they'd just fallen asleep, because his blush would surely give him away and Niall was right there. But once he got to the conversation they'd had before leaving, and then moving Nick's things, he started to shake – could almost feel himself being tugged back into that cracked and dreary parking lot when he'd felt on top of the world. Because Nick was choosing to come home with him – choosing to make his home, _their_ home. Next to him, his father was tense and grating his teeth as he stuttered through the attack, explaining how they'd come out of nowhere and he'd dropped his keys and Nick had returned for them. He could barely talk as he explained the rest of the encounter, feeling numb and like he was going to explode from fury and pain all at once.

When he turned to look at Carole and his dad, Carole was crying quietly and Niall was red in the face and looked more terrifying and furious than Mark could ever recall him being.

"Was there anybody with Nick from the time he left school until you arrived at his room?" the second officer asked.

Startled, Mark turned back to them. "No, I- I don't think so," he said uncertainly. "Why?"

Jim looked slightly worried at his answer, and sighed heavily. "It means whatever Nick did during that time is mostly likely only backed by his word, and it could easily be turned into him confronting or provoking them for some reason while nobody was there to see him."

"There's no way in hell Nick would do that," Niall growled defensively. "After all the other times they've gone after him– "

"What other times?" the second officer cut in sharply. "If they've got a history of this and any of you are witnesses it'll help his case."

Mark wiped at his eyes and tried to get a handle on himself as Carole and Niall explained the times they'd seen Nick getting assaulted. Mark put in the various times he'd been there as well once they had finished, even mentioned the day Nick had been left there and had the crap beaten out of him and the countless nights Nick hadn't slept because of them hollering and trying to break in.

"That's... "Jim cleared his throat and stared over his partner's shoulder at the pages of notes. "That's quite extensive. It should help."

"I think that's all we'll need for tonight," the second officer decided. "If we have any more questions we'll contact you."

Jim nodded at his words, and stood up, looking regretful as he dug out his handcuffs. Mark eyed the glint of metal in confusion, a prickle of fear grating over his skin. There wasn't any reason for those that he could think of. They'd done nothing wrong, yet Jim was stepping towards Nick's bed.

"What are those for?" Mark demanded, his voice rocketing up an octave and coming out slightly shrill. "What are you doing?"

"Mark," Carole said bracingly, and the panic in his chest only increased. This didn't make any sense. "It's because of his ankle monitor, sweetheart. Bringing him here was out of its range. Until they're absolutely certain he didn't provoke that fight or anything, they have to make sure he stays in... in place."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Mark hollered. "He _never_ did– wouldn't do– he would have _died_ if they hadn't brought him here!"

"They know that," Niall assured him, though he sounded just as furious as Mark felt as they watched Jim fit the handcuffs around the bed's railing and then Nick's wrist. "It's part of their protocol until their investigation is complete."

"He's not even... not even _awake_," Mark argued, his heart plummeting at his own words. "He can't go anywhere regardless."

Carole pulled him into a tight hug as the second officer left to go call the station, but Jim remained behind.

"I hate having to do it," he said resignedly, standing next to Nick's bedside and watching his unconscious form. "After everything I've read in his file I just want to make this right. He's found something great with you guys, I can tell. But making sure he gets it... " Jim shuffled over to Mark's bed and dropped down onto the edge of it so that he was facing him. "I'm not going to lie to you. It doesn't look good considering one of the men is dead. That was a separate confrontation with two of our officers, and they ended up having to shoot him at close range, but if it goes to trial... most judges aren't sympathetic to teenagers with a record, and especially not in a case of gay bashing. Not in this part of Ohio. His neighbors' statements don't count for much, and most of them didn't even glance out to see what was going on or anything. The woman on the end is the only one worth a damn, and if his grandfather comes back then I don't know what'll happen."

"His grandfather was here?" Mark echoed, anger flaring to life in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Cameron Atkinson was doing here would do nothing to help any of them. Any interaction between him and Nick would end badly. And after his lack of help keeping Nick out of a juvenile detention center, Mark couldn't see him helping Nick out now.

"He's still Nick's emergency contact. Didn't stay long after I got on him," Niall grumbled from next to him. "Did you look into getting him on any charges?"

"We talked to the one man we caught," Jim answered. "We'll have to get Nick to confirm some of what was said. He gave us a direct quote from his grandfather, even identified a picture of him before he asked why we wanted to know anything. It still won't be enough considering how many judges he's got in his pocket, but if you uh... hold it over his head, you might be able to get him to give you guardianship of Nick? Or help with anything legal that's going to happen soon. He'll look suspicious if he doesn't do anything, considering how well known he is as a lawyer."

"That's what I've been thinking about," Carole agreed, and Mark was so surprised by it he just stared at her and his father, who was nodding. "I've been thinking about it for a while, even looked some stuff up. Even without his grandfather's consent, Nick is seventeen and legally allowed to decide where he lives as long as he's with a responsible adult."

"Really?" Mark managed to say. He hadn't known that, had figured Carole and his father would try to keep Nick's living situation as quiet as possible until he turned eighteen next October. The idea that Nick was actually allowed to live with them without any legal problems was a relief in a way. But the mention of Cameron Atkinson making a mysterious appearance, most likely just to look like he cared so he couldn't get called on anything, irked him and made him want to bundle Nick up and tuck him away in his room at home. Safe from the law, safe from the world's judgement, and safe from his grandfather's control and harsh outlook.

The door was pushed open and Doctor Burke entered with another doctor, a tall man with dark hair and thick glasses.

"Mark, this is Doctor Fuller. He'll be doing your surgery tonight," Doctor Burke said without preamble. Mark clumsily shook the man's hand with his left, feeling dizzy and exhausted even though he hadn't even been awake for two hours yet. Jim said his goodbyes to his father, Carole, and himself, and Doctor Fuller walked him through the procedure once more.

Ten minutes later Niall was helping Mark change into a hospital gown, his eyes bugging out of his skull at the line of hickeys on Mark's hip bones that his jeans had covered up. Thankfully he was allowed to keep his boxers on, so he wasn't as humiliated as he could have been. Doctor Fuller returned with a nurse who helped him onto a gurney. Carole kissed him on his cheek once more, reassuring him that the surgery was simple. Mark nodded nervously as he was rolled out of the room, into the elevator and then into a surgery unit on the fifth floor. Briefly, he wondered if it was the same one Nick had been in earlier, but had already been cleaned of his blood and the mess he'd surely made because of his wounds. The anesthesiologist came over with his anesthesia and he felt the sharp prick of the needle as an oxygen mask was put over his mouth.

His eyelids began to get heavy almost instantly. As he started to drift away he wondered if Nick was still unconscious, lost in some nightmare from his terrible past or not even dreaming at all. Maybe Nick wasn't even capable of dreaming anymore after tonight...

When he woke up for the second time that night, Mark found himself staring up at the same ceiling tiles in a mostly dark room It was late, he realized as he looked around and found his father asleep in the chair next to his bed. His shoulder was wrapped tightly and throbbed dully as he rumpled his blankets and turned enough so that he could see the distinct outline of Nick's profile in the bed across the room.

The sight was comforting and painful for him to see. Nick hadn't changed since he'd left, which was both a good and a bad thing in a lot of ways. After the numerous times he'd been there for encounters with those men part of himself had almost started to believe that Nick was somehow invincible. That while Nick's emotional state was shattered and had a million different holes in it, his physical strength and resistance, his ability to somehow always come out with the upper hand, would never be compromised.

Tears built quickly in his eyes as he looked back up at the ceiling. Everything was so uncertain now. The fear of losing Nick to one of a dozen different possibilities was gut-wrenching and made him want to vomit. If his grandfather didn't ruin things, then his ankle monitor might. If he got cleared off that he could easily be charged with provoking the assault or countless other things given the record he already had at seventeen.

The door was pushed open slowly and quietly, but the light from the hall filtering in caught his eye. Carole and Jake tiptoed inside quickly. Jake nearly rushed to the bed and tackled him, but Carole's sharp warning made him pause. Instead, he got a dainty hug that amounted to Jake making a giant circle with his arms and lightly pressing his fingertips into Mark's biceps. Despite his sad mood, Mark couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

The rest of the night was spent with Jake yammering away at his bedside while he drifted in and out of consciousness. His brain was still rather foggy and weird from the anesthesia and on top of that he was exhausted from the attack and how much he was worrying about Nick. At some point he must have dozed off completely because when he woke up again the room's sole window was dazzlingly bright and a warm strip of sunlight was hitting him in the face.

Mark had to shield his eyes in order to see around the room. His father had disappeared, and Jake was passed out on a small cot in the far corner by Nick's bed. A jolt of hope rippled through him as he looked to Nick, but the other boy hadn't moved at all – was still in the same exact position as last night. For a moment, Mark listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the monitor and tried to take some comfort in that. If anything worse had happened in the night he would have surely been woken up by the doctors rushing about.

He yawned loudly as his heart sunk once more. Mark had no idea what time it was, but he figured it must be at least noon if the sun's strength was anything to go by. His head was clearer than it had been at any point yesterday or last night, but he still felt terrible because of the dread of what would happen once Nick woke up.

Niall and Carole arrived a few seconds later through the open door, each carrying two trays of food. Mark's stomach rumbled painfully as the smell of scrambled eggs hit his nostrils.

"Watch it," Niall warned. "You sound like Jake and Nick. I don't think we can handle three boys who eat enough for twenty."

""I do _not,_" Mark said crossly, eyeing the food tray now placed on the narrow bed table Niall was now pushing towards him as Carole helped him sit up. Niall moved to wake Jake up, handing off his second tray and then settling into the chair next to Carole's. "Still no changes?"

Carole and Niall glanced up at him sadly, eyes briefly flickering towards Nick's side of the room before Carole spoke.

"No, they stopped the sleeping medications about four hours ago," she explained. "There's still no sign of brain swelling or anything alarming. Hopefully he'll wake up within the next couple of hours."

Mark nodded, eyes still focused on Nick as he started to eat. Jake took the silence that followed as an opportunity to tell them about his football game last night. Even though he was grateful for some distraction, Mark barely listened. He was just glad that the focus wasn't completely on him at the moment. With both Carole and Niall smiling and listening attentively to Jake give them a play- by- play, Mark spent the majority of his meal watching Nick for the slightest sign of movement. The flicker of an eyelid, the twitch of a finger. Anything that would loosen the painful knot in his chest and tell him the boy he loved was still around to fight for what they had.

The end of their meal came and went. Doctor Burke came to check him out a final time, signed the release form and then had Niall sign the rest, as was the standard procedure. Mark was changing back into his clothes with some help from Jake with his shirt, and adamantly refusing to leave even though Niall and Carole both insisted that he at least walk around and stretch his legs a bit, when his ears caught a faint groan from across the room.

His head snapped around, hope flooding through his veins as he stumbled to Nick's side. Startled, the others stared after him until Nick made another faint, pained noise in the back of his throat. Carole exploded into action and rushed from the room. Mark assumed she was going to find Doctor Burke, but he could barely focus on his own body movements long enough to take hold of Nick's hand where it was resting on top of his blankets. Another pitiful sound echoed out of Nick's parted lips and Mark screwed his face up against the emotions stirring in his chest.

This was the moment Mark had been both waiting for and dreading. Everything could change right now. His entire world could be flipped over and rolled off a cliff or everything could float back down from the violent tornado it had been sucked into. Niall had moved to the opposite side of the bed with Jake, both watching Nick nervously as the door banged open behind them and Carole returned with Doctor Burke.

Doctor Burk quickly moved in front of Niall and Jake, checking a few things on the machines. "Nick, can you hear me? If you can hear us squeeze Mark's hand or blink your eye, okay?"

Another groan, louder this time, and a harsh hiss greeted her words. Mark gripped Nick's hand tighter, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Nick, it's Mark. Squeeze back."

Slowly the fingers in his grasp curled around his hand, though the squeeze was so weak Mark barely felt it.

"Okay, that's great, Nick," Doctor Burke encouraged. "We need you to open your eye or try to speak if you can, okay?"

Nick whimpered a little and Mark took that as acknowledgement. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched Nick's eye slowly move under his eyelid. When Nick's eyelid pulled apart and revealed his hazel- green iris, Mark couldn't hold back his tears anymore. Nick's eye may still be cloudy and he was obviously sluggish and incredibly groggy, but he was responding. He could hear and understand them.

"Fantastic," Doctor Burke said happily. "I'm going to check your eye, okay?"

After a few seconds of shining the light into Nick's eye and his subsequent groans, Doctor Burke pulled back and checked over a few different areas of his face.

Nick's eye kept drifting shut even though he was blinking repeatedly to try and stay awake. Mark wiped his own eyes and bent to kiss him softly on his uninjured cheek and whisper in his ear. "You're safe now, baby."

"K- k- k-" Nick's voice was so weak and shaky he stopped, breathing in sharply and then wincing. Mark could tell how difficult it was for him to even get his jaw to move with how swollen his face was. The fact that it was probably still numb didn't help either.

"Shallow breaths," Doctor Burke told him, lightly resting her palm an little bit above his torso. "Don't inhale any more than this."

Mark watched nervously as Nick followed her command, his eye drifting shut once more. He watched Nick's dry, cracked lips work furiously as he tried to talk again. This was what he'd been dreading, some sort of problem, or maybe it was just the medications making him so drowsy so that he couldn't talk properly.

"K- k- Kur- Mark," Nick stammered weakly, his hand tightening around Mark's more.

"Yeah," Mark choked out, lifting Nick's hand to his mouth and resting his cheek against it. "I'm right here. You need to stay awake for a little bit, please."

Doctor Burke nodded at Mark encouragingly, seeing that he was getting a better response. "Ask him to open his eye again."

Mark nodded and repeated her instructions. After a few seconds Nick did as he'd asked, his gaze still looking hazy, but this time his eye wandered around a little, taking in the room or their faces. Mark wasn't sure if Nick could even focus on any of them at all with how groggy he was.

"Do you know who this man is next to me?" Doctor Burke asked Nick, who was now squinting up at them. Mark held his breath as they waited for Nick's answer. He didn't want to think what it would mean if he recognized himself, or Mark's voice, but couldn't recognize Niall or Carole. Something could be wrong with Nick's vision entirely.

"Bur- urt," Nick muttered, his eye drifting closed again.

"Hey, hey, stay with us," Niall said. "We've been sitting around for hours waiting for you to wake up. Give us a little show, yeah?"

Nick's eye slowly opened once more, and Doctor Burke managed to get him to identify Jake and Carole, before he turned his gaze to his right and Mark found Nick's eye trained on him. He could see how much Nick was struggling to focus and stay awake, but there was a familiar determination there that Mark was so glad to see.

"K- Kur... K-Mark, y- you o- o- ok- ay?" Nick asked shakily, and the concern made Mark's heart want to burst in his chest. There was Nick's unwavering love shining back at him through that hazel- green eye, all of the happiness and hope and the memories of the little world they'd managed to create for themselves.

"I'm fine, Nick," Mark said earnestly. "They didn't get me." He glanced at Doctor Burke, who nodded to say she was done for now, and pressed a kiss to Nick's knuckles. "Go back to sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up."

Nick groaned in understanding, his eye flickering shut as he managed to whisper, "L- love y- you."

"I love you, too, baby," Mark replied, no longer able to stop his tears as Nick drifted back to sleep.

Doctor Burke sighed, though she sounded relieved and satisfied. "That's definitely a good sign. He can hear, and was able to recognize all of you by sight. His speech might just be from the swelling and numbness and the medications. When he wakes up again we'll be able to know more on that count, but that was a great sign that his brain is still functioning properly. He's very lucky in that aspect. Now it's just the left eye that concerns me." She stood up and went to pull Nick's chart from the plastic holder on the door. "If he wakes up again, call me. We'll try to get a bit more from him if possible. Keep him awake longer, maybe get him to drink and eat a little bit."

Carole thanked her once more as she left to go add some notes to Nick's file, but Mark stayed where he was, clasping Nick's hand tightly. The fact that Nick was almost certainly clear of anything terrible of a brain related nature was relieving. But there was still the lingering fear in his mind saying that once Nick was more aware and awake, had his mindset more ordered, he'd lash out or push him away because of everything that had happened.

Next to him Carole and Niall embraced tightly, and Jake awkwardly patted Nick's leg on the other side of the bed. Mark wiped at his eyes, and tried not to think about what the next few days or weeks might mean for them all. He tried not to think about how Nick might shut him out and never let him back in once he was fully conscious. Nick's fingers curled tighter around his hand, and he glanced up expecting Nick to be awake again, but he wasn't. Despite his fears he squeezed back, determined to hold on to Nick for as long as the other boy or Cameron Atkinson would let him and beyond.

The skin on Nick's face was tingling and itchy when he woke up again. Everything was heavy and his brain was incredibly groggy and fuzzy as he laid there. It took him a few more minutes until he was fully awake and once he was, he immediately wished he wasn't. His head was pounding, throbbing really, and the left side of his face felt weirdly numb and clumsy as if it had been inflated with helium. His jaw was sore, and ached and creaked loudly in his head when he tried to make it work. Nick took a slow deep breath, only to wince as pain seared across his ribs and up his chest. A loud groan fell from his mouth and he forced himself to stop and try to focus on his breathing.

He knew that feeling. The sharp pains and stabs from his lungs expanding and stretching his ribs when they couldn't handle the movement. At least one, probably two or three of his ribs were broken then. Perfect. After a few moments of relaxing and remembering what he'd been told when he'd woken up in the hospital after the Sadie Hawkins dance years ago, he worked on opening his eye.

A blurry, dark hospital room greeted him. Something shifted against the sheets next to his hip and with some struggle he turned his head enough to look down. Mark's head was resting next to him on the bed, their hands intertwined tightly as the other boy drooled quietly on the blanket. Something hot and painful constricted in his chest that had nothing to do with his broken ribs. Just the sight of Mark sleeping brought everything back from... last night? A few days ago? He wasn't sure hold long he'd been out, but the fact that it had happened at all filled him with fury.

Why couldn't things go his way just once? Why did his happiness always lead to disaster?

Mark grunted loudly and Nick lowered his gaze back to the other boy – his _boyfriend_. Even the thought of the term made his face flush. But with the flush came a burst of pain along his left cheek, shooting from his jaw to his eye. A sharp hiss of pain whistled through his teeth and he squeezed his good eye shut, waiting for the pain to subside. Only it didn't. The ache didn't increase, but it didn't dissipate either. It steadily throbbed and seared up and down the left half of his face, sometimes even shooting little sharp tingles across his nose.

Just the thought of how bad his face looked made Nick grimace. He remembered a fair portion of what had happened. The crack of a glass bottle against the top of his head, the blurred vision and dizziness as he'd been dragged towards the car and slammed into it face first. But mostly he remembered the overwhelming fear of what would happen once he was down, once he was unconscious and bleeding to death in a dark, cracked parking lot and Mark was left on his own. Nick had no doubt none of his neighbors would be any help. They probably hadn't even looked out to see what the commotion was about or bothered to call the cops about the noise. They'd never bothered before.

Mark snorted a little and rolled his face more into the blanket, gently nuzzling his cheek against their joined hands. A hard lump made its way into Nick's throat at the unconscious gesture. Somehow, someway, Mark was fine. He'd made it out and they were both alive. He didn't understand how it was possible after those last few seconds he remembered, but here they were safe and sound, if a little beaten up.

Heaviness started to seep into his head again, and he let his eye drift closed once more as his face and chest throbbed. Maybe some more sleep would make the pain stop or at least dull it some...

A loud, grunting snore sounded from the corner by the foot of his bed and his eye fluttered open again. It was too dark to make out the people sleeping over there, but he was almost certain that snore belonged to Jake. He'd heard it more than once over the past week, but from what he could see there were at least two people over there. The snoring continued, echoing and thunderous, and Nick knew he wouldn't fall back asleep with that racket going until he was completely exhausted once more.

He let his head loll to the side so that he could watch Mark sleep, content just to know the boy he loved was safe and fine. That by taking the majority, perhaps even all of the physical assault, Mark had been saved from too much injury. At least physically. The sight of Mark's tearful, hysterical face flashed once through his head, the slap of Mark's hand against the window as the bat had connected with his face one final time –

A little alarm went off on one of his monitors as his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Stop thinking about it, he scolded himself. He had more than enough painful memories to live with. The sooner he closed this one off and forgot about it, the better they'd all be. The blip slowly steadied out, but he was positive someone would come rushing in at any moment.

A few seconds later he wasn't surprised when Carole, in her nurse's uniform, came bustling inside. He tried to talk, but his jaw still wasn't working properly. A string of incoherent noises fell from his lips as she rushed to his side and started checking various things on the monitors.

Some doctor was there a moment later, checking him out as well, and finally deciding his rapid heartbeat increase was nothing drastic. Something caused from a nightmare or the disorientation from waking up. As the man left, Carole dropped down next to him on the opposite side as Mark, taking his other hand into hers. He kept trying to speak, but the words were lodged in his throat and his lips and mouth didn't feel like anything at all right now.

"Shhh, just relax, sweetheart," Carole soothed gently. "You've had a rough couple of days. Take your time, okay?"

He swallowed thickly and screwed up what little strength he had, focusing on moving his mouth to get the words he needed to say out.

"A- al- ways y- you," he stammered softly, but he could tell by the way her eyebrows knitted together in the middle of her forehead that she'd heard him and didn't understand what he meant. Even to his own ears what he'd just stuttered sounded stupid, but getting much more out wasn't going to be easy. Just those two words made his temples throb angrily.

"Always me?" Carole echoed in confusion, moving her chair a little bit closer so at least he wouldn't have to project him voice so much.

Nick tried to nod, but it only made his head hurt more. God, he _hated_ this. Why couldn't his mouth and brain just work together seamlessly when he really needed them to? Still, he tried once more.

"W- when- ever n- n- need you," he paused and swallowed letting his jaw relax so that he could force the next words through. "Here," he let his gaze travel around the room, hoping she'd understand he meant not just this hospital, but the last one. "A- and here." With a great effort he raised their clasped hands, not daring to let them drop down onto his chest over his heart, but something held his hand down and rattled against the bed. Even as something seemed to shift in her gaze at his words and gesture, his gaze fell on the handcuff slapped around his left wrist and attached to the bed.

His ankle monitor would be the reason for that. The hospital was miles and miles from his apartment and definitely not in a three mile radius. Coming here had set the damn thing off and now the cops were going to be all over him.

"I... I didn't think you'd remember that," she whispered in surprise, and he looked up to find her own gaze on his handcuffed wrist. He'd worried about that later once he knew what exactly had happened after he'd been knocked unconscious. "It was such a long time ago. I'd forgotten it myself until recently."

"E- eas- i- ly forget- table," Nick murmured, his throat feeling dry and scratchy, but compared to how it hadn't felt like anything ten minutes, he'd take it.

Carole looked heartbroken at his self- depreciating words. Her eyes were shining faintly in the light from the hall, and she was shaking her head in disagreement.

"No, you're not, Nick, even if you might think it after... everything you've been through," Carole said sincerely. "You're so much more, so much stronger and incredible than I think even _Mark_ knows." She paused and brushed some of his curls off his bandages, and even if he'd wanted to, Nick couldn't have looked away. It had been years since an adult he'd trusted had ever praised him or told him he was worthwhile. Even before his grandfather had known he was gay the man had still turned up his nose and lectured him endlessly about every little thing he didn't like about him. But Carole... Carole was like his mother. Or at least, what he thought his mother would be like if she was still alive to see him now.

A swell of emotion expanded in his chest at the thought. God, his mother wouldn't even recognize him anymore. Not even when these scars and bruises healed and faded. He was nothing like the little boy she'd left behind and sometimes he hated himself for it.

"You were one of the sweetest little boys I've ever met," Carole continued after a moment, and Nick felt his throat constrict more at her words. He wasn't anymore though. "You still are, even though you like to hide it from everyone. The way you are with Mark... it blows me away to know everything that's happened to you hasn't completely obliterated the boy I remember. You've done so much for Mark – for _all_ of us. I'm so grateful you've come back into my life and have made Mark the happiest he's ever been. I'm so thankful I've got the chance to love both of you."

Nick's vision blurred again, but this time it wasn't because of his head, or pain, or sleepiness. After a moment of letting the tears pool in his eye, he tugged his hand from Mark's grasp to wipe his eye. The movement made Mark shift and groan and once he realized that Nick's hand was missing his head shot up and he looked around wildly.

"K- Mark," Nick called softly.

Mark's head whipped around so fast his neck cricked, but then his eyes locked with Nick's and all the tears Nick had just wiped away started pooling in his eyes again.

"Hi," Mark said softly, eyes bright as he got out of his seat quickly, wobbling a bit from being off- balance because of the sling his arm was in. Mark settled next to him onto the bed, taking hold of his hand again as Carole rose to her feet.

"I'll go get you something to eat, okay, Nick?" Nick nodded a little, never taking his eyes off of Mark as Carole gave his hand another squeeze and left the room.

"You h- hurt your a- arm," Nick whispered as the door snapped shut. Part of him was relieved to hear some of the steadiness returning to his voice, but it still irked him that he couldn't quite get his tongue around his words. He hoped it was just how groggy he was right now, because if this stammering was permanent it was going to drive him nuts.

Mark glanced down at his shoulder briefly, before he leaned forehead and tentatively rested their foreheads together. While his mouth and jaw were regaining sensation, Nick didn't even feel the warmth of Mark's skin against his, just a slight pressure. Even with how bizarre and eerie it felt, it was still comforting to feel Mark's warm breath brushing over the parts of his face beginning to tingle with sensation.

"It's nothing major," Mark reassured him. "They already patched me up while you were out."

"H- how long?" Nick asked.

"They brought us in yesterday evening," Mark told him. He heard Mark gulp and a few tears fell from Mark's eyes onto his cheek and bandages. The fact that he barely felt it was strange and made his skin crawl. He didn't like any of this at all. "I was... I was scared that you had– that you were– "

" 'm n-not," Nick cut in, and he wanted nothing more than to tilt his mouth up and kiss Mark, but his entire neck felt like it was made from hot wax. At most he could make his head loll from side to side, but any type of lifting wasn't working at all. He was just too weak right now. The very thought made him cringe.

Mark took a shaky, deep breath and pulled back to wipe his nose on his sleeve. "I know that now, but last night, Nick... y- you were just lying there and you weren't moving or– or– "

Nick squeezed Mark's hand tightly, even as his own flashes from yesterday rippled through his mind. He'd been through things like this before, unfortunately. While it was still hard and terrifying, his past experiences made it a little easier to accept and come to terms with the situation. But Mark... he'd never asked, but he was almost positive the other boy had never experienced anything quite like what had happened to them last night.

"C- come here, Mark," Nick requested, tugging a little on Mark's hand until the other boy stood up and slowly and carefully laid down on his left side in the small space next to Nick.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" Mark asked worriedly as he settled down next to him.

Nick let his head roll to the side so that he could look Mark in the eyes again. It was lucky his good eye was on this side. Otherwise he probably wouldn't be able to see Mark's face at all. "I'm fine," Nick told him quietly. He called it a small victory that he finally didn't stutter for once.

Mark's good arm curled around his upper arm loosely and he let his head tilt down until it was resting on Nick's shoulder. "I love you," Mark told him, and there was something unbearably nervous in his tone.

It took Nick a few seconds to figure it out, but then he remembered his explosive reaction to the break- in. The way he'd shut Mark and Carole out completely and thrown them out of his apartment. The hesitancy in Mark's tone, the scared tremor of his voice, made him realize that as bad as his physical condition was, it was nothing next to the emotional turmoil they were both feeling. Mark was scared of losing him still, even though he was physically okay. He was scared of Nick shutting him out again, maybe even forever. And Nick was scared that somehow they would still end up losing each other in the aftermath of last night. The handcuff chaining him to the bed definitely wasn't a good sign.

But there was absolutely no way he could turn away from all of this now. There was no way he wasn't going to fight to keep this group of loving, caring people in his life. Even if he got hurt, or his heart ended up breaking, he wouldn't turn away from Mark or Carole or Niall or even Jake now. Without them his heart wouldn't even be able to be broken, because Mark would have never helped him mend it if he hadn't given this a chance.

As much as it terrified Nick to admit it, he needed them now more than ever. Needed their support and love that they'd so generously offered to him with no expectation of it being returned. Except he wanted to return it wholeheartedly, and that scared him even more because ever instinct he had was screaming at him to still turn his back and run once he had the chance.

Nick let his head droop down some more until his uninjured cheek was resting against Mark's hair. His eye fluttered shut as Mark sighed at the touch. "I love you, too."

At some point they must have dozed off because the next thing Nick was aware of was Carole gently coaxing him awake. The smell of something delicious hit his nostrils and his stomach rumbled so loudly Mark jerked awake at his side. They both winced at the sudden movement. Mark because he'd unintentionally jostled his healing shoulder and Nick because Mark's hand had pressed against his ribs as it had retracted from the bed.

"Sorry," Mark apologized. "If your stomach wasn't also so hungry it wouldn't have happened."

"Exactly," Nick murmured, his voice not nearly up to its usual biting tone, but he kept the banter going just the same. "You s- should be m- more than used to it by n- n- now."

He was pretty sure some of the sass in that comment was lost because of the shaky stutter, but he could actually feel his tongue and most of his mouth again. That had to be a good sign even if some of his stammering was still persisting. Carole helped Mark off the bed and into one of the chairs, setting one of the trays she'd wheeled in on his table and demanding that he eat.

"I won't have you not eating anything now that Nick's awake," she told him as she pressed a button on the side of Nick's bed that raised him into a sitting position. While the movement didn't put any strain on his ribs, it was still slightly uncomfortable for his torso for some reason he couldn't place. The sudden shift make him dizzy and the room seemed to tilt and blur for a moment.

But Carole was by his side, sitting on the edge of his bed and clasping his hand tightly. "Shh, relax, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and let your head get used to it, okay?" she reassured him for the next couple of minutes as the ache in his head dissipated some and when he blinked his eye open he found the room was back to its normal self.

Still, the crease in Carole's brow told him that she was still worried about something with his condition as she held the straw in the glass of water to his lips and encouraged him to drink. He did as she requested, slowly drinking the glass of water and then moving on to some chicken broth and even some of the noodles in the soup. But as hungry as he was, he didn't think he could stomach much more than that.

Mark finished relatively quickly and seated himself on the other side of the bed and something like panic awoke in Nick's chest. He could hear Carole fine on his right side, could even hear some of what Mark was saying, but there wasn't even static in his left ear. Just an eerie silence that made him nervous and feel off- balance. How he hadn't noticed it before was beyond him, but now that he had he couldn't focus on anything else.

"C- can't hear," he choked out, refusing the next spoonful of broth and turning to Carole. Nobody had told him exactly what his list of injuries were, but he'd already figured out quite a few from the various places that were throbbing.

"What?" Mark bolted out of his seat in alarm, but Carole was already cutting off what he was going to say next.

"It's your left ear?" At Nick's weak nod, she continued. "The eardrum was ruptured. Not severely, fortunately, but it's going to take several weeks to heal at least. Normally the ear rings a lot when that happens, but it can also fade in and out or you might not be able to hear for a while. I'll make a note for the doctor to keep an eye on it. Make sure you let us know if it changes."

Nick nodded mutely again and relaxed back into his bed some more. The thought of not being able to hear, even in one ear, terrified him. Hearing was one of the main senses he'd relied on during his time in juvie and again these past six months living at Forestwood. He couldn't afford to not be able to hear on one side if he was going back to that madhouse.

Carole seemed to realize his worry because she set aside the bowl and talked him through each of his injuries, explaining the healing time for each and possible problems or complications. Nick listened numbly to the list, watching Mark's face show exactly what he was really feeling. At the very least if he did get locked away again, they'd have to wait until some of these were fully healed. He'd seen for himself how other boys had had stitches ripped from their skin by the top guys in there. It wasn't long after one particular incident that they'd made an official rule that they couldn't lock anyone away without a full physical examination saying they were healthy, mostly so they wouldn't get sued by anyone again.

By the time she finished, Mark looked unnerved, but Nick was quickly calculating a set time frame for when they'd throw him back to the wolves. Or maybe... maybe this time since he was seventeen, nearly an adult in legal terms, they'd just toss him in a real prison and be done with it. He gulped at the thought and looked away from both of them, the handcuffs rattling slightly as he tugged his hands closer to his body. It hadn't escaped his notice that Carole had left out anything involving the cops and their investigation, reports, and what had happened to their attackers. If she hadn't mentioned it, then it must be bad. Bad for _him_. As much as he wanted to know what was in store for him, he really couldn't bring himself to ask right now. Not when everyone – including himself – was just relieved that he was all right.

The rest of Sunday was a blur for Nick. For the most part he slept, waking occasionally to eat or meet with whichever doctor was on call at the moment. Niall ended up forcing both Jake and Mark to leave that night because they had school the following morning, but when Nick woke up again on Monday morning, Mark was by his bedside. Judging by the fact that both of their backpacks were in the chair next to Mark, Nick figured the other boy had at least gone in to let the school know what was going on and to collect any work they had for the next however many days.

Carole stopped by during her lunch hour and stayed with them, changing the bandages around Nick's ear and eye and noting that some of the swelling was starting to go down, although the bruising was still extensive. She also stretched out his legs for a little bit since the doctors told him it would still be a while before they'd try letting him walk around. His ear, on the other hand, had started to ring faintly the previous night, which Doctor Burke had said was a good sign although it was driving him crazy.

Niall showed up right after lunch, fresh from his first shift back at the shop. He looked tired, but happy from what Nick could tell, though personally he didn't think Niall could quite finish a full shift there for a few more weeks. This morning had probably only been four or five hours at most, but the other man was sweaty and kept drifting out of the conversation Mark insisted on keeping up. Not long after Carole returned, now in her street clothes and ready to spend the next few hours sitting with them.

It was late in the afternoon when a group of unexpected visitors appeared in his doorway. Nick wasn't surprised to see two cops there, one he was certain was the guy Mark had known the one time they'd been hounded, and the other he didn't recognize. A moment later, he didn't even care that they were there to do whatever to him, because his grandfather had stepped through the doorway behind them, looking as haughty and distinguished as ever. Nick's blood ran cold as the door closed with a faint snap.

What the hell was he doing here? It's not like he gave a damn about him at all. His anger started clawing at his insides as he met the man's gaze. The man who had abandoned him and left him in the hell he'd barely survived. There was nothing in his grandfather's eyes as they looked at each other. A stranger on the street would show more emotion towards him than his grandfather would.

The slightly familiar cop stepped forward and Nick flinched on instinct and shifted away from the man as much as he could. He _hated_ cops. They'd done nothing but harass him and make him miserable for years. To them he was little better than a wad of gum they'd stepped in.

"Hi, Nick. I'm Jim Ferguson," the man greeted, and even though he sounded cheerful and looked nice, Nick hated him immediately because of the badge shining on his chest. "I'm not sure how much Carole, Niall, or Mark have told you yet about our investigation– "

"They haven't said a thing and I haven't asked," Nick growled. He eyed Jim's impassive face for a moment and then tugged at the handcuff on his left wrist. "Judging by this it's nothing good for me."

"We're here to remove that actually," Jim told him, and when Nick still looked at him distrustfully he stood up, walked around to the far side of the bed. "I'll probably be back in a few days to remove your ankle monitor as well."

He made a move to hold Nick's wrist and Nick jerked his hand away as much as he could. This didn't make any sense at all to him. He still had three weeks left with that damn thing. All of the drama from his hospital trip would only exacerbate the problems surrounding its removal, especially with his record added into the mix.

"Why?" he demanded harshly. "Since when do any of you have a del- l- linqu- quent's b- best int- ter- e- ests at heart?" Carole stepped around Jim and tried to rub his arm, but he glared up at her as well. "Don't," he snapped. He turned back to Jim and the second cop, catching sight of his grandfather's disapproving look over his shoulder. "They're here to give me answers and I want them now. Since when does any type of investigation go in my favor? In favor of a _gay_ _delinquent_ in _Ohio?_"

"Oh, come now, Nick. There's no need to be so hostile and rude," his grandfather's clear, crisp voice echoed from behind the officers and Nick gritted his teeth and fought down the urge to hit anything he could reach. Just the sound of his voice brought back all the memories from his first night on his own. The thud of his trunk being carelessly dropped onto the pavement. The snap of the car doors, a worthless key being handed to him, and then the hateful, painful words directed at him not long after. He would never forget the hoots of laughter that had greeted his grandfather's harsh slurs, or the way Cameron had looked at those men – the same ones who had landed him in the hospital – not caring about what they might do and then left him there to fend for himself. To be beaten to a bloody pulp as he struggled to find a way to barricade his front door because the lock hadn't worked.

From the foot of his bed, Niall growled angrily in the back of his throat as his grandfather stepped forward and continued talking. The look on the man's face said it all to Nick. The charming, empty smile that had fooled countless jurors, but had never fooled Nick was in place. Nothing had changed between them, not that he'd wanted it to.

"There's still a few things left to get sorted out with the police, but most of it's taken care of. Though I have to say, this repetition is getting quite old," Cameron said sternly. "I don't know what to do with you sometimes." He smiled wider then, but his eyes flickered and darkened and it was a look Nick knew so well, even if it had been months since he'd seen it.

It was the same taunting look he'd seen in the parking lot on that warm May evening. The one that was just daring him to snap back or say any ounce of the actual truth just so he could be shot down and feel the hopelessness all over again. Just so he could prove who had the power and that no matter what he said he'd always look like an insolent, troublesome, little child that was ungrateful for his grandfather's help, time and time again. Nick clenched his jaw and said nothing, because it was futile to even bother responding. Nobody would ever believe him next to his grandfather. Not with his record and tendencies – not when his grandfather was on the side of the law and had a hundred judges at his beck and call.

As he stared at his grandfather, Jim asked for his wrist to remove the handcuff. Slowly, Nick extended it, hearing the metal clink gently as it slide along the railing. A few minutes later, he'd regained the use of his left arm and was being talked through everything. One of the men, shot down by an officer, was dead. Two were now in custody, one caught on the night of the attack, and the other found this morning, passed out drunk in an alley a few blocks away. They would need them to identify the man, but they seemed certain that he was one of the two they were looking for still. The fourth was still unaccounted for. His grandfather had stepped into the fray, made sure the death was placed on the police department entirely, had made sure his ankle monitor going off was put down to a life or death situation, and generally made it look like he truly cared about him. Only he didn't. By the time they had finished explaining everything, Nick knew his grandfather's legal involvement was as much for his own sake as it was for his. If he looked like he cared and did everything within his power to help then nobody would suspect him of anything awful.

Nick kept his face blank as the two men stood up and said their goodbyes for the night. They'd be back within the week to remove his ankle monitor, although right now it was turned off and completely useless. As Jim Ferguson brushed past his grandfather he shot the man a dirty look, and for a moment Nick almost felt a little fond of the man. Even if there was nothing he could do about anything, at least he didn't buy the act. If he was the one that was friends with Mark's dad then he probably knew more about Nick's life than Nick would ever want him to.

The second cop tugged the door open and stepped out. With a final wave Jim followed him, only to stumble and jerk to the side with a shout.

"Whoa, little one! No need to take out my knees!"

Nick was confused by the remark, mostly because it was hard to see from the position his bed was in, but when his grandfather looked alarmed and spun around he thought he had his answer. His heart jolted painfully as a little girl, with her golden blond curls in two braids over either shoulder, came bounding into the room.

"Nick's in here, isn't he?" she demanded as Cameron stepped in front of her.

"Lily Marie, I told you to stay outside– "

"I want to see my _brother_," she sassed back, and even though Nick couldn't see her through his grandfather's body he could just picture the way she was jutting her chin out right now as she glared fiercely up at him.

"Lily?" Nick called. He hated how scared and timid his voice sounded in that moment. It had been almost three years since he'd seen her. The fact that she even remember him at all made something tight coil around his heart.

"Nick! I _knew_ it!" Lily squealed. Before Cameron could stop her she darted around him, ducking her his arm, and flew towards the bed. "One of the doctors outside said your name and– what happened to your _face_?"

"Lily!" Cameron scolded, his voice angry and fierce. "Do _not_ touch him!"

"But– "

"I said no," he continued harshly. "We're leaving."

Even as Niall stepped forward, Nick couldn't take his eyes off his sister. God, she'd grown so much in the past few years. Gone was the awkward, round faced seven year old with no front teeth and in her place was a tall, gangly nine year old. Her hair was a lot longer and a little darker, but her eyes were the same as ever. The same hazel- green as his, only wide and innocent and very upset and worried at the moment. He'd always loved that they had the same colored eyes. It was the only physical similarity they shared and even when someone hadn't believed they were brother and sister they'd get a glimpse of their sparkling eyes and immediately changed their minds.

"You're not going anywhere until I've got some answers," Niall snapped and Lily spun around to stare up at him in surprise.

Nick looked over, too, and at Niall's small nod realized at least part of his motive right now was to give him a chance to see Lily. He'd never directly spoken to Niall about her, but somehow, probably through Mark, he already seemed to know.

Cameron turned away from him and Lily, and eyed Niall critically. "There's nothing we need to discuss."

"Yes, there is," Niall argued. He looked at Lily pointedly. "About Nick's future and school situation."

His grandfather seemed to take the hint when he caught that look towards Lily. Nick knew he wouldn't want Niall to say anything about May to her, or why he'd just left him there on his own in front of her. That would lead to a lot of difficult questions, because his sister was constantly questioning _everything_. Especially because Lily had always been incredibly fond of him since their father and her mother had been very aloof. He'd taken to teaching her and helping her when he could. Even read her to sleep the way his own father had when he was younger.

"Fine," Cameron decided. "Lily, stay in here. Don't touch– "

"It's not going to hurt her to touch him!" Mark snapped angrily, and the sound of his voice made Nick jump. He'd forgotten Mark was there because he'd been so silent until now. But the sound of Mark's voice also made him flinch a little. The high pitch was enough to make his grandfather looked surprised and then disgusted as he eyed Mark's clothes and hair. He could already see the words forming in his grandfather's mind – the same ones he'd thrown at him not long ago.

"Don't you– " Nick started, but Mark grabbed his hand and he stopped, wincing from the way his ribs had just seared.

Niall looked angrier than Nick had ever seen him as he directed Cameron from the room and into the hallway without a word. He didn't even notice until he heard the door snap shut because he was so focused on controlling his breathing so that his ribs would stop aching so much.

"You're hurt really bad, aren't you?" Lily whispered as she hoisted herself up onto the bed by his thigh and sat down. "What... what happened, Nick?"

"I- it looks worse than it is," Nick said quietly as Mark squeezed his hand and helped him relax back into the bed.

Lily's eyes narrowed skeptically at his words and she immediately turned to Mark. "He's lying, isn't he?"

Mark looked surprised to be directly addressed, and even a little nervous to be put into that position between lying to her or backing up Nick's words. "What makes you think that?"

"Because he _always_ lies about how hurt or upset he is," Lily said smartly. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's not great," Mark supplied with a quick glance at Nick.

Nick attempted to roll his eyes at the exchange, but then winced when his left eye throbbed angrily. It was so like both of them to immediately gang up on him and tell each other that everything he said was worse than it was. He'd had similar injuries before – much worse ones regarding his ribs – this wasn't anything new or difficult. At least not to him.

"You're going to be okay, though?" Lily asked him, turning back to Nick and biting her lip. For a moment Nick swore she'd shrunk down to the little six year old that had sat in the same spot after the Sadie Hawkins incident. He wondered how much of those weeks she even remembered, but she obviously remembered something with how scared she looked right now.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her, extending a shaky arm to twirl one of her braids. "It'll be a few months until everything's good, but don't count me out yet, all right?"

"And then you get to come home?" Lily persisted. "Or do you only have to stay here for a little bit and then you get to come home?"

"I– no," Nick swallowed thickly even as his throat tightened and his heart beat painfully in his chest. God, why did she always have to ask so many questions? How was he ever going to explain this to her?

Her entire face fell at that word, and if Nick's heart hadn't been shattering inside his chest before, it certainly was now. He could barely feel the pain in his head and face over how much his chest was aching at the look on his sister's face. His baby sister. The sibling he hadn't really wanted or known what to do with until she'd given him her first smile, her first laugh. The way she used to wrap her arms and legs around his own leg and giggle as he walked around the house with her in tow.

It hurt to even think about all of the memories he'd done his best to block out, but he couldn't ignore it with her sitting right there beside him. She was here and real and about to disappear from his life again, probably even for good.

"But... are you going back to Dalton then?"

"No," Nick choked out, and he hated how much he wanted to cry right then. How he just wanted to tug her into his arms and sob and never let her get away from him again. But he couldn't. That would only scare her more and probably hurt him further. "I don't go to Dalton anymore, Lily."

"But then... Nick, I don't _understand_," Lily said in annoyance. "We're here to see you and then take you home. Where else are you going to go?"

"I... " Nick paused and shut his eye, taking a shaky breath to try and steady himself for what he was about to tell her. He'd always hated disappointing her or giving her bad news, and he had no idea what his grandfather had been telling her about his whereabouts, but he figured it was a lie. Telling her that he was never coming back to her home was going to be devastating and then trying to explain _why_ was only going to make things worse. "I am going home once I leave here," he started slowly and he bit the inside of his lip to stop the humorless laugh from escaping at the way her face brightened. "Lily, my... my home and y- your home... they aren't the same place anymore."

Her face fell once more and the look was even worse than it had been a minute ago. Nick almost wished he was back in the parking lot and getting the crap beaten out of him and having half his face caved in because this was so much worse, so much more painful and agonizing. There was no easy way to say goodbye to his sister. But at least he was getting the chance to now. Whether that was a good thing or not, he honestly didn't know. Nothing about it felt good.

"Why?" she asked quietly. Nick could already see the tears forming in her eyes, but he knew she was going to do her best to hold them back. She'd always done her best to keep her tears from falling. "Grandfather would want you to– "

"That's the thing of it, Lil," Nick cut in. "He... he doesn't want me. N- not anymore."

Nick had to look away from her after he said that. He felt so ashamed even though he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't his fault their grandfather was a homophobic bastard. There wasn't anything he'd done wrong to bring this on himself, but it still felt like it. It still felt like it was his fault because all of the anger and hate was directed at him and who he was.

His gaze fell on Mark and if anything that only made him feel worse. There were tears in his eyes, too. Tears that Nick couldn't handle or deal with – sympathy he didn't want and shouldn't have. He turned back to Lily, who was looking so heartbroken and little and lost, and decided to explain as best he could before she started asking him questions.

"You remember those Disney princess movies you love so much?" She nodded silently and scooted up the bed towards him, clutching his biceps in a death grip as though she was terrified if she let him go she'd never see him again. He hated having to remind himself that she wouldn't. "Remember how all those girls like boys and fall in love with a prince?" Another nod. "Well, sometimes... sometimes girls like other girls and fall in love with them," Nick continued, looking back over to Mark as he spoke. "Sometimes boys like boys and they fall in love, too."

"Oh," Lily said simply, quietly. "You're gay."

Nick startled a bit at how bluntly she'd said that, but she'd never really been one for tact. For a moment he was sure she was going to pull away in disgust, was sure their grandfather had filled her head with a ton of anti-gay bullshit and hatred, but she snuggled down against his arm a little more and sniffled.

"You... you know what that means?" Nick said in surprise and Lily sat up and rolled her eyes.

"God, Nick, I'm nine, not _stupid_," she said in exasperation. After a second she explained, "The boy in my class that keeps trying to kiss me has two dads. They're really nice, but grandpa doesn't like them at all."

"He keeps trying to _what_?"

"Don't worry," she continued loftily. "Boys are icky. No offense."

"You kick him in the nads if he tries anything– "

"Ew," Lily muttered. "I don't want my foot _there_!"

Carole and Mark both laughed at her words, and even Nick could forget for a moment how this conversation and visit was going to end, because she didn't care. The fact that he was gay meant nothing to her. It was just part of who he was, not some big travesty like it was to their grandfather.

Lily slid up the bed a little more and looked at Mark. "If he's not your boyfriend he should be," she told Nick sternly. "He's got pretty eyes. Nice people always have pretty eyes. You should keep him."

"He is," Nick said softly, lacing his fingers through Mark's and holding on tight. "It might have taken me a while to realize it though."

"Well you are kind of stupid sometimes," Lily replied, and Nick couldn't stop his laughter even though it hurt and felt out of place. She hadn't changed a bit since the last time he'd seen her.

"I've missed you," he murmured. As soon as Nick said it the words fell like a heavy weight into the pit of his stomach. He was going to keep missing her, too. For months or years or the rest of his life. After today he'd probably never see her again. After today Cameron would take her home and fill her head with lies for the next however many years until she wanted nothing to do with him either.

Nick didn't realize Lily was crying until she spoke again.

"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" she whispered tearfully.

He didn't want to answer that question, didn't want to lie just to make her feel better or say no when it would break her heart. He looked at Carole, silently watching them and looking tearful and just as heartbroken as he felt. Then he looked to Mark, who gave him a small, bittersweet smile. If either of them had a better answer they didn't offer it. Nobody could give him any sort of hopeful answer.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

Lily's tears continued to fall silently as they laid there, but his own wouldn't come. He felt more hollow and numb than ever before. After the beating he'd just had, after all the shit he'd been through he finally had Lily back, but only for a moment. As soon as that door opened up again she'd be whisked away from him after she'd been tauntingly dangled in front of him. He didn't want the door to his room to open, didn't want to feel his heart shatter all over again like it always did when he let himself love anyone.

On his left side, Mark squeezed his hand tighter and Nick's throat tightened even more. How long was it going to be before Mark broke his heart the same way everyone else did? As Niall shut the door to Nick's room behind him, he tried to keep Carole's last glance in mind. Tried to put the obvious warning and caution at the forefront of his mind as he led Cameron into the empty room next to Nick's, but it was difficult. Everything about the man in front of him made him furious, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not curl his hands into fists and start swinging. But he knew he couldn't. Not right now, probably not ever. Niall wanted what was best for Nick and that meant keeping his temper in check with the man who had control over Nick's life.

As soon as the room's door was closed, Niall tried to come up with a civil way to start this conversation. Nothing came to mind, though, since he really had nothing pleasant to say to the bastard standing before him. Fortunately, Cameron seemed to be much better at this than he was. Not that Niall would ever admit it.

"You seem rather... fond of Nick," Cameron observed. He eyed Niall appraisingly for a moment as he replied.

"Only an idiot wouldn't cherish that boy," Niall snapped, and he'd already lost his temper before, in Nick's room. But now he was losing what little control he had managed to force himself to have of it once they'd left Nick's room. Everything this man said made him grit his teeth and clench his fists. It was going to take a miracle for this to end without him hitting the other man.

"Your _son_ seems to share the sentiment," Cameron sneered, and the emphasis he placed on son made Niall's blood boil hotter. Mark was more of a man – a better man – than Cameron ever would be. It had taken Niall two seconds within coming face to face with Cameron for the first time to realize that.

"Don't you _dare_ mock my son," Niall growled. "All _three_ of my boys are perfect as they are. Nick doesn't need to fit into your pitiful idea of what a real man is. He certainly didn't need you to become the man he already is."

"As if I would ever raise someone like _him. _My worthless son is responsible for that. Neither of them have ever fit into any of the places that they were supposed to fit into," Cameron shot back. " I have no use for the boy, and I don't care to waste my time figuring out another solution for him – "

"If you'd treated your grandson like a human being back in May you wouldn't _need_ another solution!"

An uncomfortable silence followed Niall's echoing shout. They were both already breathing heavily, eyes glinting furiously in the other's direction. Nothing about this conversation was going how Niall wanted it to. He had tried to convince himself to be civil, or to use what little evidence of neglect and abandonment they had against Cameron, but in the heat of the moment he'd forgotten it all. The odds of any of it holding up against the other man's legal might was preposterous anyway. But as much as he wanted to keep Nick safely with them to protect him, and as much as he'd told himself to be civil, he couldn't help his instinct to give the man responsible for all of this a piece of his mind.

"Nick has proven time and time again how disruptive he is to my life with his choices," Cameron said evenly after a moment. "Stealing from stores, picking fights, breaking into auto shops to steal parts and sell them. Deciding to– to mess around with some boy who's as deluded as he is. It's one thing after another and I won't– "

"Love, " Niall corrected angrily. "He's in love with my boy. You can't help who you fall in love with, and he's as troublesome as he is because none of you have ever been there for him like he needed you to be."

"I don't have the time– "

"You should have made the time for him," Niall cut in. "Me and Carole have made all the time in the world for that boy. He's come so far in a few _weeks_ after years of being ignored."

"Then he's your problem now," Cameron snapped. "I will _not_ have him tainting my granddaughter."

"He's not a problem," Niall bit back. "He's one of the best things that's ever happened to my son and he's always welcome at my house."

"You'll take him?" Cameron asked, and there was faint hint of surprise in his voice. Perhaps he thought Niall wouldn't care enough, or wouldn't have the money, or wouldn't want to bring that kind of trouble into his home. But Niall knew better than that. Niall knew how much potential Nick had, how big his heart was when he let himself acknowledge its existence. Cameron only saw something no longer worth his time or effort, and the fact that this man had ever had any part in Nick's live disgusted Niall to no end.

"He practically lives there now, anyway," Niall told him, an accusatory note to his voice. "And you're right. He has no place in your life, and it's not because he can't fit into it. It's because you won't let him be the person he is. If you can't see how incredible that boy can be then you really don't deserve him."

"You'll change your mind when you see what a waste of time he is," Cameron said bitterly. "All that potential to be something great, and its wasted because he wants to be a f– "

Niall's fist slammed into the rolling table next to the bed, the metal ringing loudly from the smack of his knuckles against it. Cameron stopped mid word, staring down at Niall's clenched fist in alarm. It had taken all of Niall's strength not to hit the other man in the face, but he couldn't. Nick came first right now, and hitting the other man would only bring more trouble for all of them, even if it would feel fantastic.

Cameron cleared his throat loftily and said, "I'll have all of his legal documents sent to you. Where should it be sent?"

The business- like tone made Niall sorely want to hit something again. Instead, he spit out his address as Cameron tapped it into his phone, glaring darkly after Cameron as they left the room. A few of the nurses, who had been whispering to each other at the nurse's station, stopped abruptly when they spotted them. It was ridiculously obvious they were talking about the shouts and slam they'd just heard. But Niall couldn't be bothered to care right now. Every ounce of his willpower was being directed at keeping his arms at his sides instead of reaching them up to circle around Cameron Atkinson's neck and start choking the life out of him. That probably wasn't a great idea in a hospital with witnesses and resuscitating equipment.

Every ill wish and murderous thought left Niall's mind as he stepped back into Nick's hospital room. It was a sharp contrast to see Nick and his sister lying there together compared to the boy from a few days ago. Only the IV in his arm remained from the numerous tangles of tubes and wires, and he was sitting up, but the expression on his face made Niall's heart plummet once more. Lily was curled into his side, crying softly while Nick's hand played with one of her braids and he murmured quietly against her forehead. Every word looked difficult and painful to say. His eye was shining with unshed tears and Niall had to look away after a moment. He couldn't stand to see Nick's heart break like this after all that he'd heard about Nick's past. First with his parents, then when he'd been locked away and then abandoned, and now this. He couldn't seem to catch a break.

Cameron hadn't mentioned whether or not Nick would get to have any contact with Lily, but Niall thought his stance on the issue was fairly obvious This would be the last time they would see each other for years, maybe even decades, and there was no more Niall could do to prolong the two siblings saying goodbye to each other. All he could do now was be there for Nick when he was ready to accept his help.

"Lily," Cameron scolded. "What did I tell you– "

"Why won't you let Nick come with us?" she demanded, hiccupping and sitting up to glare at her grandfather. "I thought family was important! Nick's my bro– "

"No," Cameron said sharply, stepping forward and hoisting her up into his arms even as she tried to fight against his hold. Nick flinched as she was tugged from his bed, tears pooling in his eye as he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling despite Lily's wail of protest. Niall saw Mark reach out to take his hand, but Nick yanked it away and kept silent. A thrill of horror ran up Niall's spine at the empty look on Nick's face, because there was nothing of the Nick Atkinson he knew in that gaze – not the anger or the cockiness or the love. The thought that they could all still lose Nick now hadn't even crossed his mind. "He is not your family anymore."

"Yes, he is!" Lily screamed, struggling in his arms. "I want to see Nick!"

"You will _not_ being seeing him again, young lady," Cameron informed her. "_Ever_," he added with finality. "Nick is a very sick, disturbed young man– "

"Then we just need to get him some medicine, Grandpa," Lily snapped fiercely. "And then we can take him home and be a family. _God,_ for someone who thinks he's really smart you're really stupid somet– "

"That's enough!" Cameron bellowed, and even Niall jumped slightly at his tone. He couldn't stand to watch this. Didn't want to have Nick suffer through having his sister ripped away from him again, but what the hell could he do? He didn't know the girl, had no legal say in any aspect of her life. He didn't even have that for Nick. A part of him felt dead inside knowing that he was completely powerless from stopping what was transpiring right in front of Nick's eyes.

"There is _no_ _cure_ for what he has," Cameron spat, shifting the struggling girl in his arms. "And if you don't stop crying you'll be in even more trouble when we get home. You're already not going trick- or- treating after this."

"God, how can you be so heartless?" Mark demanded suddenly, and the fact that his son was standing up and looking like _he_ might hit Cameron made Niall step towards him and place himself on his loved ones' side of the room.

Lily was still crying loudly in her grandfather's arms, blubbering Nick's name over and over, as Cameron glared across the room at them. "There's no refunds on him. You've agreed to keep him and you'll do just that or dump him when you realize how much time and money you're wasting. He," he spat, glaring at Nick, who had looked back down from the ceiling, but looked more humiliated than ever, "is not causing me, my wife, or our granddaughter any more problems."

"You're a fool," Niall said quietly, watching Nick looked down at his lap. Whether he was angry or devastated or hurt by all of this, Niall wasn't sure. It was probably a horrible mixture of all three, and the thought of the fallout from this, how Nick would react once this man and Lily were gone for good... He didn't even want to think about what sort of heartache was probably in store for them all.

"You're so lost in your prejudice that you've already given up on one of the best things that has ever happened to you." Niall paused and reached down to gently squeeze Nick's foot where it was tenting the blankets. It was jerked away slightly, but the touch got the boy's attention and made him look up into Niall's eyes. What he had to say was more for Nick than Cameron. Cameron wasn't worth the effort or time whereas Nick was worth everything and more. "You're going to miss your grandson's entire life. College acceptance letters, graduations, his wedding day, your great- grandchildren. You're going to miss it all, and you know who Nick won't be missing? _You_. Because he has us now, and we wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything. You don't deserve to have a boy as fantastic and sweet and selfless as Nick for a grandson." Niall gestured to Lily still resting in Cameron's arms. "You don't deserve that sweet little girl either, and someday when she's older she'd going to leave you for her brother and she's not going to come back. _Ever_. The same way _you_ never came back for Nick."

Cameron's expression was stony when Niall turned away from Nick's stunned face. There was a little trickle of hope in the boy's eyes from his words, though whether or not it would ever be enough to keep his heart open to all of them was anyone's guess.

"You'll have the documents within the week," Cameron said formally, hoisting Lily up higher into his arms and turning swiftly towards the door.

"No!" Lily sobbed, trying to twist and claw her way over his shoulder. "_Nick!"_

A second later the door closed on her tearful, red face, giving them all a last haunting glance of her reaching out towards her brother. The silence in the room was interrupted by a few more stifled cries, and the image of that little girl being carried away down the hallway towards the elevator, kicking and screaming, settled heavily in Niall's mind as he turned back to Nick's bed. And he knew nobody in the hospital would really think much of it either. It wasn't uncommon for young children to react that way to a loved one dying, and knowing Cameron he'd be conniving enough to realize that and use it to his advantage.

Niall turned back to Nick, and the distress Nick was feeling was painfully obvious to Niall for the next few seconds, and then what he'd expected to happen did. Mark reached out to try and hold Nick's hand again. Once more it was tugged away sharply. There was a bitterness in Nick's gaze as he stared at some random point on the floor by Niall's shoes, and Niall knew not to push this. Could see the understanding mixed in with the agony on Mark's face as he settled his hands back into his own lap.

All three of them knew Nick's first instinct was to shut himself off and turn away. Mark and Carole had both witnessed it first hand over the past few months, but Niall hadn't. And after how much he'd seen Nick open up and seen just how warm and kind he could be it broke his heart to see. But Nick needed time to process this, and then Niall hoped the boy would let Mark back in at least, because Mark was the doorway in for the rest of them now. No matter what happened, he wasn't going to let Nick disappear on them.

"Don't, just, n- not now," Nick muttered hoarsely, and even as Mark nodded and acknowledged his words Nick rolled his head to the side away from Mark, pressing his good ear and eye into the pillow and blocking them and the rest of the world out.

Mark's face was tearful at the movement, probably at the whole scene they'd just witnessed, but for now Niall knew he had to wait this out. To be patient and accept that Nick was still going to struggle to let them in, may even try and shut them out for good again.

Carole stood up suddenly and wiped her eyes. "I should get home to be there for Jake when he gets back from school. My house has been sitting empty for days."

"I could use a shower," Niall added. "I'll make something for dinner, too."

Mark stared up at them both, accepting Carole's kiss on the cheek and his father ruffling his hair.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Niall told him. "One of those fancy salads all right with you?"

Mark nodded at him, glancing back at Nick's silent form. Niall looked as well. It was really hard to be optimistic right now with Nick looking so miserable, but he had to be.

"I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart," Carole whispered to Nick, bending down and kissing his forehead. "I work at five, and Mark and Niall will be here most of the night with you."

Niall nodded quickly at her words and gently brushed his hand through Nick's curls. "Don't count us out yet, kiddo."

Nick's lips trembled a little, but otherwise there was no acknowledgement of their farewell. Nick had heard them, though. He was positive of it. Just that little movement made Niall certain their words had made it through the ringing ear at the very least. Niall only hoped Nick would listen for once, would know that even if his own parents, grandparents, and the rest of the world had given up and tossed him aside, that they never would. Even if Mark and Nick didn't make it together forever, there would always be a warm welcome and acceptance for Nick waiting in their house.

Carole grabbed his hand as they took another glance at the boys before leaving the room and heading to the elevator.

"Mark will get him talking," Carole said certainly. "He won't let him shut himself off again."

Silently, Niall hoped she was right. It was part of the motive behind him offering his own reason to leave them alone for a few hours. Nick had originally opened himself to Mark, not him or Carole or Jake. Someday he hoped Nick would be as open with himself as he was with his son, but until then he'd let Mark bring the boy back from the darker places that Nick locked himself away in.

"What happened with Cameron?" Carole asked when he didn't acknowledge her words.

As they rode down the elevator and left through the entrance Niall explained the rather short conversation and what little Carole hadn't already deduced from those final moments in Nick's hospital room.

"You should have hit him," Carole said fiercely as they stopped by her car in the employee lot. She was breathing hard and looking angrier than Niall had seen her in a long time.

"I don't think that would have made him any more agreeable," Niall replied resignedly.

"It would have made me feel better," Carole grumbled. "If he comes back, I'll hit him myself."

"He's not," Niall said quietly. "Nick never has to see him again. He's sending all of his legal documents to my house. I don't think I could get guardianship or anything, and Cameron probably wouldn't agree to it because then everyone will question him about it. As long as nothing like this happens again before next October, then he's just one of our boys."

"I'm rather fond of our boys," Carole said softly. She stepped into his arms, and gave him a little kiss, agreeing to call him later tonight once her and Jake had had dinner.

Niall waited until she was in her car and driving off before heading to his truck and driving home, trying to remember the different things Mark always put into this fancy salad. As he pulled onto his street and neared his house he was surprised to see another truck pulled into Mark's usual spot in the driveway. It took him a moment to remember who the old, beat up, navy truck belonged it, but the shout from the closed garage made it click. Samerman was here. With Jake, he assumed, though he wouldn't be surprised to find the boy had broken into the house on his own. The fact that Sam was here at all seemed weird to him, but he remembered Mark had mentioned him and Nick getting along okay.

Niall made his way inside quickly, passing in front of the staircase and eyeing the mattress that had been Jake's last year, propped up against the railing. He didn't realize what the two of them were up to until he rounded the corner to the garage door and found them trying to haul the box spring for the bed through the door.

"Would you _lift_, Hudson?" Sam growled from the garage. The box spring was tilted towards Jake, who was struggling to fit into the tiny corner to haul it inside.

"I can't _fit_, dude," Jake argued. "This doesn't bend like the mattress did. Just shove it really hard or something."

Sam growled in annoyance and the box spring clattered back down to the tiled floor and jerked forward several feet as Sam slammed into it. "Why do I _always _get the shit jobs?" Sam demanded. "I swear, if this wasn't for Atkinson– "

"Nice to know Nick's got a few good friends around," Niall said loudly. The box spring was pushed forward another foot and then stopped as Jake spun around and Sam forced his head through the doorway.

"Niall!"

"Hey, Mr. H!"

"Afternoon, guys," Niall greeted, taking his hat off and hanging it on the hook next to the doorway. He turned to Jake. "Your mom's probably going to be calling you soon. She went to her house so she'd be there when you get home."

"Oh, okay," Jake said. "I was going to head home right after we got these into your office. You and Mom said you wanted to make that Nick's room, right?"

"Yeah," Niall replied. "That's the plan."

We figured we'd get it set up since you can't lift anything because of your heart, and Mom can't do this on her own, and Mark _hates_ getting sweaty and gross," Jake said with a huge grin.

Niall eyed them both for a moment, sweaty and flushed, but looking happy at being useful and helping Nick in some small way. It was rather amazing to him how much both of them seemed to care about Nick. Considering the last he'd heard about Sam and Nick had been Sam wanting to water board his son's boyfriend, he was definitely surprised. "Thanks for this. It's a great idea, guys." He dropped his eyes to the box spring and then looked at how they had it positioned. "If you move the dining room table you can just push it in without having to angle it like that."

Both boys' eyebrows rose in revelation as they looked to where he was pointing and then at the sharp angle they'd been trying to push the box spring in through. A few quiet laughs greeted his suggestion, and a few moments later the table had been moved to the side and the box spring was through the dining room and being carried down the hallway parallel to the stairs to the dark wooden door at the end.

Niall stood back and watched them arrange the box spring and then the mattress under the double wide window opposite the doorway. His office was rather small, but the side with his desk was lined with some shelves and drawers that would be perfect for Nick's things. There was a lot of stuff he needed to clear out over the next few weeks to get it ready for Nick, but for now it was exactly what the young man needed. Something of his own that was safe and a stable, reliable place to rest and focus on his studies in.

"Mark can pick out all the bedding and decorations and stuff," Jake said, breathing heavily as him and Sam leaned back against the built- in drawers to catch their breath.

"He'll love doing it," Niall agreed. He had to stop himself from adding that it would give him something to do to take his mind off of everything going on right now. The grins and flushed looks of achievement on Jake and Sam's faces was too good to spoil.

"Are you gonna clear all this out?" Sam asked, gesturing to the shelves and drawers.

"Yeah, we've got a few weeks or so until he gets released," Niall told him, absentmindedly tugging open one of the top drawers and pulling a few things out. There were some old car manuals and lists of parts, a box of pens, some notepads, and–

"Who's that for?" Jake blurted, staring at the black velvet box in Niall's fist. Niall looked at it, too, his heart swelling slightly and his throat becoming tight. In the aftermath of his heart attack he'd nearly forgotten about the engagement ring he wanted to give to Carole. Everything had sort of been ruined when he'd ended up in a coma and then woken up to all the drama going on in their lives. He still hadn't thought up where, when, or how he was going to ask her.

He looked up at Jake's curious, almost hopeful expression, chancing a quick glance at Sam's raised eyebrow, before answering.

"It's an engagement ring," he told Jake. "With everything that's been going on with my heart attack and Nick I'd forgotten about it."

"For my mom?" Jake stammered in surprise.

"No, idiot," Sam snapped sarcastically. "It's for Coach Beiste."

"Yes, it's for your mom," Niall cut in, glaring at Sam because he knew if Sam went on about that, Jake would probably believe him. He loved the kid to death, but sometimes he wasn't the brightest.

"Can... can I see it?" Jake asked quietly. Niall nodded, feeling almost nervous for some strange reason as he handed the little box to Jake. He knew Jake loved him, and they got along great together. All five of them did, but that didn't mean that Jake would be okay with them getting married if she said yes.

He watched Jake pop the box open and stare at the little sapphires and diamonds. As the box snapped closed again, Jake looked back up and smiled a little.

"She's gonna love it," he said softly, handing the box back. Niall pocketed it. "I don't think we're all gonna fit into your house now that we've got Nick, too."

Niall laughed in relief at his words, because until right now he hadn't realized how much Jake's opinion on the matter meant to him. But he was glad he'd had this chance with him right now, even if Sam was rolling his eyes and making dopey kissy faces at them. He also knew Jake was right, and he had some vague memories from before his heart attack of thinking about them both selling their houses or adding an extension to his if Carole sold hers, but he hadn't formed any solid plans.

"I'm gonna head home before you two make me vomit," Sam said suddenly, making a beeline for the door. A few moments later they heard the front door open and then slam shut.

"You really wanna marry her?" Jake asked seriously.

"Absolutely," Niall said immediately. "I haven't felt this way since Mark's mom died. We need to work out how our lives will fit together, but that's what makes it worth it. That's what makes the five of us together perfect, yanno? We've found something together that makes the rest of the world a little more bearable."

Jake nodded at his words and then stepped forward awkwardly and embraced him. Niall was slightly surprised because Jake had thus far reacted uncomfortably when it came to being affectionate towards another man, but he returned the hug gladly.

"You wanna help me pick Mark's Navigator up, buddy? It's still sitting in that parking lot."

Jake readily agreed, stepping out of his arms quickly and clearing his throat loudly. They both shuffled off towards the door and Niall watched as Jake toed on his shoes and grabbed his jacket and Mark's spare keys.

Nothing was really certain for Niall right now, but he knew the direction he wanted to take, knew he had to stay optimistic and keep looking to the future. Right now Nick was going to struggle terribly, but Niall had to stay hopeful, because he could easily see the five of them happily sitting down to dinner on some random Friday evening next year when the boys were all seniors. He could even see himself and Carole dropping each of them off at their respective colleges a few years from now.

Niall's fingers closed over the little black box in his jacket pocket. For now he just had to focus on making sure Nick could see that, too.

Mark didn't sleep much the following week. Nick's silence had him constantly on edge even though he'd regained a firm grip on his boyfriend's hand. He knew he needed to give Nick space and time, had realized that even if Nick had opened himself up a lot that he wasn't suddenly going to be a different person. At the same time, Nick's reaction wasn't as drastic as after the break- in, but the more pessimistic part of himself put that down to Nick's physical condition. There was no way Nick would start shouting and getting angry and toss them from his room when he couldn't stay awake for more than a few hours at a time.

Part of him wondered what would happen once Nick was strong enough to do that, because Mark knew it was an instinct for Nick, and the thought that he might get up and disappear at any moment worried Mark more than anything else. So he held on tight for the rest of Monday night and then all of Tuesday, glad that his dad let him skip school again because he could barely sleep with how scared he was that he might lose Nick.

The police returned Wednesday morning with some various legal documents for them to sign and to remove Nick's ankle monitor. Most of the forms seemed to be for Nick, regarding the device's removal and a few others about the terms of his original sentence and what it had been changed to thanks to his grandfather's legal expertise. As much as Mark hated the man, he was certainly glad he'd involved himself enough to make sure they didn't get blamed for anything that had happened. It had definitely helped that the one man had ended up confessing to beating them. Mark had been surprised to hear it, had even figured the police had pressured him like he'd seen on countless television shows, but according to Jim, the man had actually _boasted _to them when they'd asked. The thought made Mark's blood boil, but there was also some relief. With a confession Nick was safe, regardless of what he'd done while Mark had been taking his test, though Mark was pretty sure he already had the answer to that.

There were two forms that Mark had to read over. One was a written out copy of his own statement on the attack, and another was attached to several photographs of men. Jim explained that they needed them both to identify the one man they'd caught the day after the attack, and since Nick couldn't leave the hospital they'd taken pictures and brought them along. A quick flip through that ended at the third one was Mark's only answer. He didn't need to look farther than the face of the actual man responsible for their hospitalization.

Nick had been extremely sullen throughout most of the meeting, saying as little as possible and glaring at Mark when he'd held Nick's arm steady enough for him to sign things. Mark really wished he hadn't needed to, because he was close enough to see Cameron's signature was already on the forms and just the sight of it made him want to kick the man in the face. His father had told him everything that had transpired the other day while Nick had been asleep, and he wished more than anything that Cameron had never come back. That he hadn't brought Lily and made Nick even more miserable and gotten him to shut off. Losing his sister once had to have been horrible enough for Nick, but the second time was like another bat to the face.

However, at the mention of the ankle monitor's removal, Nick's apathy had disappeared briefly and Mark even managed to forget his worries as he watched them remove the horrid device. That rarely seen child-like wonder appeared in Nick's eye for a few short moments as he rolled his ankle and wiggled it about, obviously relieved at having the extra weight gone. But then the surly look took over again as Jim and the other cop took Nick's statement and then left.

The rest of the week followed a certain pattern. There were moments when Nick seemed to be the Nick Mark had come to know, but most of the time he was shut off from all of them. He slowly let Mark physically close like he had before, but he didn't talk much, and when he did it was almost always to answer someone's question. Mark hated it, because it was almost as if Nick was trying to lure him into a false sense of security and make him think things were fine when they all knew they weren't. Even Nick's usual sass had vanished. His voice was dull and lifeless for the few hours he was awake, and then his sleep was filled with muffled groans and his sister's name.

Mark knew Nick was hurting over having that sweet little girl ripped from his life once more – knew that despite the fact that Nick had only mentioned Lily once, and that his sister had been his entire world after his mother had died. Mark had only seen them together for twenty minutes, but he could tell how strong their bond was. He only hoped his father had been right and she would someday reenter Nick's life. The fact that it couldn't be now made Mark's stomach ache because if Nick could just have her around for a few hours a week, or even just a phone call, he wouldn't be shutting himself away – he wouldn't be thinking about leaving Mark and the source of happiness he hoped he had been for Nick.

His father and Jake tried to distract him over the weekend with buying a few things for Nick's bedroom. Mark had a little fun trying to find a good color for the bedding and a better lamp than the one covered in Mustangs that currently inhabited the room, but buying things for what would hopefully be Nick's room just reminded him of his own worries. He didn't have the heart to say anything to his father, or to warn him that he very well might be wasting his money if Nick left.

Mark returned to school the following Monday. Between playing catch up with his classes and listening to the doctors' plans for Nick's eye surgery every afternoon, time flew by. The swelling was down enough by Wednesday for them to operate, and Mark found himself once again sitting in the hospital with Jake and his dad. Carole was on duty and passed by occasionally, but mostly it was the three of them sitting there for six long hours. The thought that everything wouldn't go as they were hoping was nerve-wracking. His stomach was flopping around inside him uselessly, making him feel sick and scared.

Doctor Burke had said the eye socket would be a simple fix, just two simple incisions, one along where the bone should be and another along the roof of Nick's mouth so they could shift the bones back into their original position. There were no wires or anything like Mark's shoulder had needed, fortunately, but the main nerve to Nick's eye had been pinched by the broken bones. There was so much that could go wrong with something so delicate, and even the doctors weren't sure of the extent of the damage to the nerve yet. Mark only knew moving the bone would be very difficult until it was separated from the nerve.

"He'll be all right," Niall muttered reassuringly as Jake continued to run through a long list of pirate movies he was going to watch with Nick once he was out of the hospital. Mark found it sweet in a very Jake- like way, and the continuous hum of Jake's voice next to him was somewhat soothing. He turned to meet his dad's gaze and nodded a little.

"I'm still worried," Mark told him, though he didn't want to mention the reason for the majority of his concerns. Instead he changed the topic. "Are you going to make me go to school tomorrow?"

His father's green eyes stared carefully at him for a few moments. "I'm tempted to make you go," he said. "I was going to decide once Nick was out and they'd said if they'll officially let him go sometime late tomorrow."

Mark bit his lip to stop the whiny words trying to claw their way out of his mouth. He just wanted to be by Nick's side every second of the day until everything was clear and he was back at home with them. Until Nick finally decided to talk to him again the way he had before. If he decided to let him in. Mark hoped he would, because he'd come so far and to just run from it all was like letting his grandfather and those homophobic men take everything good from him and win. It meant breaking both of their hearts and making their lives more miserable than they had been before the beginning of September.

Just as he was planning to cut off Jake's tirade about all of his pirate movies, Doctor Burke appeared down the hall, still in her scrubs, looking tired, but satisfied.

"How is he?" Niall asked before Mark could swallow his nerves and get the words out. Even Jake stopped talking to listen.

"He's doing great," she informed them happily. "They should be rolling him back into his room in another ten minutes or so. His eye socket was easy to shift and as long as he doesn't press at it a lot or take any more hits he'll be fine. I'm still worried about his eye. The nerve wasn't as badly damaged as I'd been prepared for, but it's still not great. He may lose some movement in the eye, but it's going to depend on how it heals from this point forward. I did what I could for now."

They all thanked her profusely and Niall tugged Mark into a tight hug, being careful not to bump his arm too much, and pressed a kiss to his hair as Jake whooped a few times. "I know you're scared, bud, but that boy loves you so much. He might be an idiot sometimes, but even he's not going to give this up. I don't care how scared he is."

He didn't question how his father had known exactly what was worrying him so much, barely managed to choke out a response because of how tight his throat had just become. But Niall understood his silence. His father understood him in ways almost nobody else did.

As Mark stepped out of his father's arms and wiped his eyes, Niall turned to Jake.

"So when are you planning on forcing Nick to watch all of these movies with you?" Niall asked him.

"I'm not forcing him! He's totally gonna dig all of those movies!" Jake defended as Niall shook him by the shoulder teasingly. Jake glared a little at Niall and then answered. "He'll probably be too tired this weekend if he's back by then, so I dunno... next Friday maybe? I've got too much going on during the week."

"Friday?" Niall echoed looking thoughtful. The next part was muttered to himself, but Mark and Jake still caught the words. "That might work if Carole doesn't work... "

"_What_ might work?" Mark asked suspiciously.

Jake looked confused and then ecstatic. "You're gonna ask her on Friday?"

"Ask _what_?" Mark demanded, because he was thinking of a million different possibilities and nothing the two of them had plotted together would amount to anything good. He'd probably wake up to a football field in the living room.

The smile on Niall's face dropped a little at his question, and he turned to Mark, looking slightly apprehensive. "I'm planning on... proposing to Carole soon."

"Oh," Mark blurted in surprise. He stared at his father's nervous look. Of all the possibilities that had been running through his mind that had definitely been the very last one. It was hard to imagine something so happy and great happening after how bad things had been these past few weeks, but here it was. His father was presenting all of them with a future path. Something to plan for and look forward to that didn't bog them down in the past, and the fact that Carole and Jake would actually be legal family was definitely a bonus.

"Is that a good 'oh'?" Niall asked him. "Or are you gonna take away my toast and jam again?"

"It's– just– I can't believe you're going to– I better get to plan the wedding," Mark finally managed to say.

"Like I'd ask anyone else," Niall told him with a bright smile.

Their conversation ended there because Nick, still unconscious and his face wrapped in even more bandages, was rolled past them and back into his room. The three of them followed him inside, and even though there was still a pit of dread bubbling up in Mark's stomach at what the future might hold for him and Nick, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before.

Nick woke up incredibly groggy not longer after that. One of the nurses sitting with them managed to get a cup of water into him for the twenty minutes that he was awake, but by the time Carole arrived he was sound asleep once more. Most of the night Nick slept, waking randomly for ten or fifteen minutes, to mumble a few slurred words before he fell asleep once more. Doctor Burke returned and said things looked good for now and he should be able to go home late Thursday evening, barring any complications that could arise overnight.

Niall forced him and Jake to head home around eleven, and it was only his father's decision to let him stay home the following day that made Mark part from Nick's bedside. Jake had protested at that and demanded his own day off, but Niall had firmly told him to take it up with his mother. They'd left a pouting Jake at Carole's house, and headed home.

The night was extremely restless for Mark once he had the silence of his bedroom around him. His shoulder was tingling with pain, and he felt horribly cold without Nick's body heat against him. Just the thought of Nick still made a thrill of worry shoot up his spine. It was the memory of Nick's love that finally lulled him to sleep around dawn.

Thursday was another blur for Mark, filled with countless doctors and forms his father had to sign. There were prescriptions and packets of papers for how to care for Nick's various injuries and what to do if certain things happen. Mark was exhausted just from watching everything happen around him, and Nick was being asked so many questions from the doctors checking up on him that he didn't have much chance to even talk to the other boy.

By five o'clock, Doctor Burke was running through one more check up and telling Nick about various pains he might experience as he healed and which ones to look out for and when he should be back for them to check on his eye and ribs and the sutures from his appendix being taken out. Nick nodded his way through most of it, looking drowsy and exhausted when he hadn't done more than lay in bed. Over the past few days before his eye surgery they'd started to let him walk a little, but he would still need a wheelchair until he was stronger.

Jake, much to Carole's worry, took charge of Nick's wheelchair, barreling down the halls toward the elevator. She looked like she wanted to scold him once they caught up, but the little weak smile on Nick's face made her stop. At least Mark thought that was the reason. Even he smiled a little as Jake raced out into the parking lot and attempted to hoist Nick into the backseat. Mark was quick to race over and swat Jake's hands away because he knew Nick would _hate_ being carried into the car.

"Here," Mark said gently, letting Nick grip his left hand tightly as Niall helped him rise out of the wheelchair and slide into the seat from his right side. As soon as the door was shut Mark glared at Jake.

"Don't carry my boyfriend."

"But– "

"Jake," Carole said quietly. "You know how Nick is. Let him do things on his own, or help him to do it, okay?"

"Fine, I just wanted to help," Jake told them.

"We know, but Nick's very... he's very weak right now, and anyone trying to do that for him is going to make him feel worse," Carole answered. "And picking him up might hurt his ribs."

"Sorry," Jake said sheepishly. "I didn't think about his ribs... he just doesn't act like he's hurting really badly so I forgot."

Mark nodded and circled around to the other side, hopping in and sliding into the middle seat. Nick stared blankly at him as he reached across and buckled him into the seat. Jake helped him with his own seatbelt as Carole and Niall hopped into the front seats and then drove home. It was a struggle to get Nick into the house because the wheelchair wouldn't make it up the front steps and Nick had fallen asleep on Mark's shoulder on the ride over. After some gentle coaxing Mark had him awake and Jake helped him out and steadied him for the walk inside and straight down the hall to his room.

Mark was slightly surprised by how involved Jake was trying to be, but he knew of the four of them he was the most able to help Nick. Niall was still technically recovering from his heart attack, Mark couldn't take much weight because of his own shoulder, and Carole was smaller than Nick and right now he was mostly dead weight.

Mark went first, opening the bedroom door and holding it as Jake practically dragged Nick inside and helped him sit down on the edge of the bed. His heart twisted a little at how adorable Nick looked when he was so sleepy and exhausted. He took a seat next to Nick to hold him up as Jake tugged his shoes off while Carole pulled his blankets down and they moved him until he was under the covers on his back. Mark was positive Nick had been asleep since they'd entered the house, but he settled down next to Nick, letting his good shoulder press up against Nick's right.

"We'll come get you for dinner," Carole said, setting Nick's papers on the little table next to the bed. "I'm going to go get his prescriptions filled."

"If you need anything just shout or text me or Jake," Niall added, watching them for a moment.

Mark waved them from the room, snuggling in closer to Nick and turning to watch the other boy sleep. There was a dark circle around the eye he could see, and a long thin bandage wrapped around his head to hold all the gauze in place over his injured eye. His face was no longer swollen, but there was still evidence of bruising and his nose was still healing from being broken. He watched Nick's dark lashes flutter for a few moments, feeling his throat grow tight at all the worry and fear he was holding inside.

He'd been terrified of saying goodbye if the attack had ended in Nick dying, but somehow the thought of Nick making the decision to actively leave and break his heart to save his own was worse. Nick's head tilted to the side towards him, nuzzling against where their shoulders were touching. The part of Nick's brow that was visible scrunched up and he let out a little grunt followed by a few murmured words.

Mark didn't have to clearly hear them to know what was said. Lily. Mamma. Even Daddy. The same things he'd been hearing Nick whisper in his sleep for the past week. Because he knew Lily's brief time with him had been the catalyst for all of this. That regardless of how much Nick loved him, she had reminded him of the reason he'd shut himself off in the first place, brought all of those feelings back and made him realize what him and Mark had could very well end the same way. That Mark's name could end up being another one to add to his list of lost loved ones.

"_He drowns in his dreams_

_An exquisite extreme I know_

_He's as damned as he seems_

_And more heaven than a heart could hold_

_And if I try to save him_

_My whole world could cave in_

_It just ain't right, it just ain't right"_

It didn't even register in Mark's mind that he was singing slowly, his voice shaky and cracking, until Nick hummed softly and shifted closer. But it was a song he'd been listening to a lot since he'd met Nick, _really _met him and not the boy from his first day of school. Some part of his voice seemed to be soothing to Nick while he slept, because even through his stuttering words, Mark could hear the content sigh he let out.

"_Oh, and I don't know_

_I don't know what he's after_

_But he's so beautiful_

_Such a beautiful disaster_

_And if I could hold on_

_Through the tears and the laughter_

_Would it be beautiful?_

_Or just a beautiful disaster"_

Nick hummed softly once more, and Mark leaned in and pecked him on the lips, letting his head rest against Nick's as he shifted a little so that he could wipe his eyes and nose. He was so close to Nick's face he could feel his own warm breath rebounding back against his lips.

"You're worth it," Mark murmured as he relaxed against Nick's warmth. "I hope you realize it."

The next thing Mark knew Carole was waking him up, a plate of food and a drink on the desk against the right wall. Mark turned to wake Nick up as well, but Carole stopped him.

"Just let him sleep, Mark," Carole said quietly, helping him up and into the desk chair. "The poor boy's exhausted. I'll leave him something to drink with you tonight, but I doubt he'll wake up until morning, if then."

Mark nodded sleepily, swallowing a huge yawn as Carole handed him his plate and a fork. For the first time in weeks they sat there and gossiped and talked about clothes and hair styles and whatever else came to mind. Compared to how serious their conversations had been for weeks it was a nice change, the only problem Mark had with it was trying to remember not to mention Niall's plan to propose. More than once he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking about wedding plans and a dress and flowers and everything.

It was late when she finally helped him back into bed and left to go to her own home with Jake. Nick hadn't moved from his original position at all and Mark could tell he was in a very deep sleep because he didn't even grunt when Mark shifted around and settled down next to him.

He woke up late the next morning. Nick was still asleep, drooling slightly and snoring a little. Mark figured it was because of Nick's broken nose because he'd never heard Nick snore before. His father was in the kitchen when he entered and together they made a late breakfast, making some extra for Nick once he woke up. Only Nick didn't wake up before the food got cold. Carole came over a little after noon, and when Mark told her Nick was still sleeping she sighed heavily and had him follow her down the hall to Nick's room.

"I hate waking him up, but if he sleeps too much it's going to make him even more tired," Carole told him as she opened the door.

Mark was alarmed to see Nick had rolled onto his right side and was clutching the pillow he'd been using. He looked to Carole to gauge her reaction, and while she looked a little surprised she didn't seem worried.

"He's very fond of anything that smells like you," Carole informed him, dropping onto the edge of the bed and bending in close to listen to his breathing.

"That's not going to hurt him more, is it?"

"No. His breathing sounds fine, and the ribs on that side are only bruised," Carole said. "It's definitely not the best position for him to sleep in, but if it's not hurting him then that's a good sign he's healing well."

Mark sucked in a sharp breath and watched as Carole rolled Nick gently onto his back and tried to force him awake. Nick grumbled and groaned in protest, even attempted to roll back onto his side, but Carole prevented him and he cracked his good eye open to see who was interrupting his sleep.

"Go 'way," Nick grumbled. " 'm s'eepin'."

"You're kind of adorable," Mark said before he could stop himself. He felt his face heat up a little at his own words as he dropped onto the mattress opposite of Carole. Nick turned his blurry eye over to him and a ghost of a smile pulled back his lips for a moment. "Come on, sit up," Mark encouraged. "It's almost two in the afternoon. I _know_ you're hungry."

It took both of them to help Nick sit up, his torso trembling terribly from the effort. He winced when he was finally sitting up all the way, no doubt from the slight strain the movement placed on his ribs. Carole started to rub some soothing circles along his back and Mark moved in to peck him on the cheek.

"You've been asleep for, like, eighteen hours," Mark murmured. "What do you want to eat?"

"I want a shower first," Nick said with a grimace. "I smell like rotten ass and those old lady nurses who kept trying to give me sponge baths."

"A shower's probably not the best idea, Nick," Carole told him. "You're still really tired and you don't want anything getting into your eye."

"But I _smell–_ "

"A bath would be fine though," Carole continued. "Someone's going to have to help wash your hair to make sure you don't get anything in your eye. Your sutures should be fine."

She reached down carefully and lifted Nick's pajama top a bit to see were the bandage was and pull it off. "Most of them have already dissolved by now," Carole observed. "Just take the bandage off and the wraps around your ribs, okay? I'll go start making something for you and Jake. He'll be home soon and he's always hungry. Do you think you could be able to make your way to the bathroom?"

Nick nodded jerkily in response and Mark watched Carole leave as Nick crinkled his nose and mouthed, "A _bath_?" as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard of. Mark giggled a little at the look on his face and helped him to his feet, which was surprisingly easier now that Nick was more awake. There was only one bathtub in the house. It was upstairs in the master bathroom, and was big enough that it would be ease to help Nick in and out of it.

Nick grumbled the entire way upstairs, and Mark just rolled his eyes as they stepped into his father's room and then into the master bathroom. He started running a bath as Nick tried to get his shirt off, but Mark ended up having to help him with it and then his socks, pants, and bandages. The frown on Nick's face was enough reason for Mark to feel bad about how much he was helping Nick, but he also knew without his help Nick would end up hurting himself more. Right now he could barely see straight with only one eye. Walking around or doing anything was extremely difficult.

With some reluctance, Nick let Mark support some of his weight to help him step into the tub. Getting him seated was much harder than Mark had expected it to be, but after several difficult minutes Nick was relaxing against the sloped side of the tub, waving his hands back and forth along the surface of the water.

Mark moved over to the cabinet under the sink, pulling the little doors open and digging inside until he found the bottle he was looking for. It had been a long time since he'd taken a nice, long, hot bath, but he knew the one part he enjoyed the most was adding bubble bath. Nick's eye was closed when he moved back to the tub, closing the toilet lid and sitting down to pour the bubble bath into the running water gushing from the faucet.

The scent of the bubble bath spreading around the room was instant. Nick perked up a little, opening his eye and then looking ridiculously horrified by the bubbly suds starting to form on the top of the water all around him.

"What are you doing?" Nick demanded hoarsely, trying to shift away from the bubbles.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Mark retorted, continuing to pour the bubble bath soap in.

"I'm going to smell like a frilly old woman," Nick snarled, glaring suspiciously at the suds as though they might start eating him alive.

"You will not," Mark said crossly. "This is _my_ bubble bath. You'll smell like me, and it's very good for your skin."

"It– well, you're just– I don't– "

Mark slid off the seat and kneeled down next to Nick, leaning in for a slow, lazy kiss. Even though he knew Nick was a little annoyed and not completely sure of the suds forming around him, the other boy still smiled a little against his lips. It gave him hope that maybe Nick wouldn't end up doing what he thought Nick would do once he healed.

"Would giving you my old rubber ducky to play with help?" Mark murmured slyly, a teasing grin pulling back his lips.

Nick turned his glare onto him and pouted. Mark's heart thumped almost painfully in his chest, because, god, he was so adorable like this. So beautiful and fantastic when he just let himself be Nick.

"Maybe," Nick muttered petulantly.

Mark giggled a little at his boyfriend's pout, and moved to go dig the rubber duck out from under the sink. But Nick's wet, warm hand reached out and caught his left hand to hold him in place.

"Actually," Nick said thoughtfully. "I'd much rather have the rubber duck's owner join me."

"I don't think my dad wants to take a bath with you, Nick," Mark deadpanned. Even though he knew exactly what Nick meant, it was worth it to see the way Nick blanched at his words. "After all, he's the one who bought it. So I suppose it's technically his– "

"_Mark,_" Nick practically whined. "Please."

Mark stared into the other boy's pleading eyes for a moment. While he figured Nick would try something sexual even though neither of them were really capable of much, he could also see the sincerity in his eyes. He wanted Mark wrapped around him in the warmth and perfumed foam for the comfort. The fact that Nick was reaching out to him was reason enough for him in the end.

"Okay," Mark replied, climbing to his feet and then sitting back down on the toilet to take his socks off. His shirt was a terrible struggle and he knew he had to remove his arm sling, but it was very difficult to keep his arm stiff when he was trying to remove his button- up and then his pants and boxer- briefs. Finally, he managed it after several minutes of struggling, but then came the part he hadn't really thought about. Where was he going to sit? Moving Nick would be hard, but he couldn't lean back against Nick either because of his ribs.

Nick reached out to the faucet and shut it off, using his grip on it to help himself sit up. He winced a little, but jerked his head to the open space behind him. Still uncertain about how this was going to work, Mark stepped into the tub and carefully settled down behind Nick, keeping his torso very straight and his right arm bent and unmoving. Nick had turned to watch him, slowly sunk down further between his legs as he shifted to the left to rest his head and shoulders back against Mark's stomach and the left side of his chest. The position gave Mark something to rest his injured arm on. He let his right hand and forearm press into Nick's shoulder as his left arm slid around Nick's chest. Finally, Mark let his cheek drop onto Nick's wet curls.

"Mmm," Nick hummed. "You're much better than some plastic duck."

"I better be," Mark said, attempting to sound offended. "Sitting in some dark cabinet for years has probably _ruined_ that duck's skin tone and texture, while I'm still– "

"Soft and beautiful," Nick finished, taking hold of Mark's left hand and lacing the fingers of his right hand through them.

After that they didn't talk for a long time. Mark let himself doze off a little and enjoy the feeling of Nick's solid, warm body pressed against his. Listened to the soft, content little sighs that Nick let out every so often. And somehow, even without Nick saying a word about what he was thinking or had been thinking since Lily had returned and then been pulled from his life again, Mark could feel that things between them were going to be all right. The intimacy and sweetness of what they were sharing right now wasn't something Nick would do if he was closing himself off still.

Eventually Nick started to shift a little, and something in his mood had obviously changed. Mark hoped maybe the other boy would finally let him back in completely, that they could clear this tension between them and that Nick wouldn't listen to his first instinct and still run once he had the chance. He hoped the obvious change in Nick's demeanor didn't mean he'd realized he was opening back up when he didn't want to.

Mark shifted a little as Nick did, and bent his head down to suck lightly on Nick's shoulder. Nick gasped softly, his left hand that had been submerged in the water finding Mark's thigh and squeezing it.

"I'm here when you want to talk, baby," Mark murmured softly, moving his lips to kiss at the curve of Nick's neck.

Nick sighed once more, but the undertone to the sound was no longer content or happy. He sounded resigned to something, some decision he'd come to over the past few days, and the thought that maybe Mark was wrong and Nick wasn't going to stay came surging back and threatened to engulf him completely. But he tried to stay calm, tried to wait until he knew what he was dealing with before he reacted to Nick's words. Mark wrapped his arm a little tighter around Nick's body, and waited. By now he knew that it took Nick time to figure things out, to figure out how much he was willing to say, or even if he wanted to say anything at all.

"I... you're more than my boyfriend, you know. You're my best friend," Nick said honestly after a few moments of silence. "I don't even know when it happened, but I feel like I could tell you anything. I... I _want_ to tell you _everything_. Until I met you I never had that," Nick shifted out of his arms, gripping the side of the tub and pulling himself into a sitting position so that he could turn and face Mark. "It scares me. Everything about you scares me sometimes. How much you mean to me, and how much I love you terrifies me. And I... " Nick paused for a long time, and Mark waited again, listening to the steady drip of water from the faucet.

He'd been able to figure out most of what Nick had just told him on his own, but actually hearing Nick say it was different – made it more solid and real even if he'd known it for weeks now. It meant that his fears had only been fears because Nick was right here with him, opening up once more and letting him love him. The boy he'd struggled so hard to find and keep wasn't giving up on himself or them.

"I thought about running," Nick continued. "Right after I saw L– my s- sister." Nick stared down at his hands, moving them slowly through some of the foam for a moment before he whispered his next words. "What if you break my heart the same way she did? The same way all of them did? Only it'd be worse, because you'd be making the choice to leave or hurt me... Lily didn't have that choice."

As Nick fell silent again, Mark opened his mouth to speak, to say any of the dozen things he'd planned to say to convince Nick to stay and not shut himself off again, but he didn't have to. Nick was letting him back in, finally telling him how he'd been feeling since he'd seen his sister again. It was both relieving and painful for Mark to listen to him, to see that sunken, agonized look in Nick's eyes when he mentioned her. He had nothing prepared for this.

"She didn't break your heart," Mark said quietly. "The whole situation did. It broke my heart just watch you both have to go through that again. I wish there was something to do... some way to change it, but..."

Mark trailed off sadly and then reached out for Nick's hand, using his legs to pull Nick closer until the other boy shifted back into his original position. His lips grazed against Nick's jaw line as he nuzzled against Nick gently.

"Do you remember when I said I was yours forever?" Mark asked him.

"Yeah," Nick replied with a shaky little laugh. "It scared the shit out of me."

"I meant it," Mark told him. "For as long as we both want this, want us, then I'm yours. I hope that's forever, but... I can't guarantee that. I can't promise things won't change between us someday. One day you might not be in love with me anymore, or I might not be in love with you."

"I know that," Nick acknowledged. "It took me some time to realize it. As worried as I am about you breaking my heart like they did, I'm even more scared of _not_ having you with me, even if it's not forever. For now this is all I want," Nick said sincerely, turning his head to kiss Mark on the cheek. "Maybe someday I won't or you won't, but for a while we have each other this way, and I'm going to enjoy it and hold on to being the happiest I've ever been."

"You've made me the happiest I've ever been, too," Mark murmured happily. He pulled Nick into another kiss, enjoying the feeling of having Nick wrapped up in his arms, safe, warm, and content.

The maturity of Nick's words just now surprised him, but Nick had grown quite a lot since the beginning of September. He could still be crude or perverted or over the top, but he was one of the sweetest boy's Mark could ever remember knowing. They'd both changed for the better in small and even big ways, and maybe things would change between them at some point, but no matter what, he knew he'd always love Nick. They would always be close and care for one another even if what they shared now didn't last forever.

Mark hoped it would, because he still wanted to be Nick's forever, and regardless of how their future progressed he honestly didn't see that ever changing. He couldn't imagine his life without the other boy anymore, and he hoped he never had to. Carole was surprised by how fast time seemed to move once Nick was released from the hospital. The first week, while irritating in countless ways for Nick, was a blur for her. A huge envelope of Nick's documents were delivered to Niall's house Friday morning, and since Carole and Niall both had the day off, they took the time while Mark and Jake were at school to go over them with Nick. Most of it was simple information: a birth record, police reports on various crimes and petty problems he'd caused and gotten expelled for, report cards from the dozen schools he'd gone to, and doctor records; a list of allergies, sicknesses, broken bones, and infections from his childhood. But some of it was more difficult for Nick because of the emotional triggers it carried. They ended up skimming parts of it because of Nick's snappy remarks and defensive reactions. They left most of the police reports, court orders, and countless documents surrounding Nick's hospitalization and then the brutal fight that had led to his imprisonment for another time. The documents involving his inheritance from his mother and her family was another sensitive subject for Nick. Nick had bluntly told them to take it all, whatever was left, once they had access to it.

Niall had refused it like Carole knew he would, and Nick had gotten angry at that. He wouldn't say anything more about it, but Carole thought he didn't like the idea of living with Niall and Mark for free. She knew how independent Nick tried to be, how much he'd come to rely on himself instead of others and knew he'd want to pay his own way as much as possible. But Niall had refused to budge on the matter and told him to save it and the money he still had from his grandfather for college.

Every chance Nick had over the next week had led to him and Niall arguing over Nick paying anything. Somehow, Nick had talked Niall around to letting Nick pay some form of rent, but Niall still seemed weary of the idea, especially since Nick needed to focus on healing and keeping up with his school work. A job on top of that would be too much right now, and giving up the small inheritance he'd have access to next October wasn't something either of them wanted Nick to do.

The following Friday couldn't have been more different for all of them. Instead of an angry Nick shut up in his room, and Niall looking grumpy from the arguments they'd had all morning, things had been easy and calm. Jake had rushed home from school, looking giddy and excited. When she'd asked why, he'd stammered over some terrible excuse that she knew was a lie and then left the house with a stack of pirate movies and three boxes full of popcorn packets. The whole thing had seemed suspicious until she'd returned from the grocery store to find the lights dimmed, candles lit, and Niall waiting for her with a meal for two and a huge surprise in the form of a small velvet box.

The boys had come over late Saturday morning for a little engagement party, and, really, Carole couldn't remember the last time everything had been so happy in her life. Even Nick was smiling, albeit in a guarded, tired way, and enjoying the celebration.

The next few weeks were spent taking Nick back and forth to the doctor, planning the wedding (set for mid- December) with Mark, and buying Nick a new wardrobe. The latter was oddly the most difficult of the three, because Nick would insist on buying it all himself on one shopping trip or refuse to let them buy anything unless it was really cheap the next. Nick's doctor visits were going exceptionally well, though his eye was still bandaged, less heavily now, with an eye patch to hold it in place. The doctors were hesitant about letting him return to school on a regular basis, but Carole knew it wouldn't be much longer. Nick had proven he could live normally with his injured eye covered and his ribs wrapped. However, as a nurse she understood their worry about him straining his good eye trying to read things from his seat in a classroom, and a more general concern about Nick being the kind of person who pushed himself too hard too fast.

Because of how well Nick seemed to be handling his physical state, Carole considered it the last of her worries in light of everything else happening. Even her wedding wasn't a huge thing on her mind because she had Mark to help with that and keep her sane. Honestly, as long as they were all there and Niall became her husband she would be happy no matter what color the bridesmaid dresses were or whether Mark could force Nick into a suit. The thing that still worried her was the nightmares both Mark and Nick had started having. Most nights they slept together in Nick's room just to try and prevent them. After the first night when Niall had made them sleep in their own rooms, they'd been woken up by Nick screaming himself hoarse in the room below them. Mark had refused to leave him after that, and they'd let the boys settle into a rhythm of comforting each other at night.

She knew from going to wake them up, and Mark's confessions to her, that Nick still slept roughly even with Mark there, muttering under his breath about Lily or his mother and sometimes his father. Carole wanted to do something to help him, to give him an outlet to relieve his pain and help him come to terms with what had happened, but she didn't know what she could do. They had no phone number or way to contact Lily, and both of his parents were dead. It wasn't until she was reading through the more detailed reports on some of the things he'd stolen when he was younger that she was hit with a sudden idea.

While going through the theft reports she'd come to realize that Nick had lived in a small town, Conesville, a few hours east of Lima, near Westerville. She'd gone back to look at his old address, and then at all the documentation she had on his mother's death and burial. She looked up a few locations and directions and planned an outing for her and Nick that coming Sunday before he was officially allowed to return to school. Maybe she couldn't give Nick his real mother back, and couldn't replace her, but she could give him a place to go to talk to her. The same way that Mark and Niall visited Elizabeth's grave on Mother's Day, her and Nick could visit Lyra's.

Carole explained her plan to Mark, Jake, and Niall while Nick was taking a bath the first Friday in December. Mark loved the idea, even though he started to caution her immediately about how Nick would react, but she knew the risks. If she drove out there with him he may very well refuse to get out of the car. They might sit there for hours in silence while she waited to see if he could find the courage to get out and visit his mother's gravestone. She also had to insist that Mark not go, even though he tried to put himself into her plans. As much as Mark understood Nick at this point, Carole thought she understood him pretty well, too. Oddly enough, his mother's death was one of the biggest connections she had with Nick since she was actually there shortly after it had happened. She hoped that bringing something positive into this situation and helping him start healing after all these years was something _she_ could do for Nick.

Sunday morning she woke early and got dressed after accepting a sleepy kiss and mumbled encouragement from Niall before she left the bedroom to go downstairs to Nick's room. Carole was careful to push the door open halfway so that it didn't creak. The sight that greeted her made her heart thump painfully in her chest.

Nick was on his right side as usual these days, pressed right up against Mark's left side with his left arm tight around Mark's waist and his face buried into Mark's neck. Carole could just make out his eye patch, slightly crooked, in the early dawn light coming in through the gap in the curtains. She looked around a little as she moved towards the bed, taking in the textbooks scattered over the desk, and the clothes hanging out of some of the dresser drawers. She nearly tripped over the skateboard hidden under a pair of jeans on the floor, but she'd had years of practice at navigating Jake's cluttered room and regained her balance quickly.

"Nick," she whispered softly, dropping onto the edge of the bed and gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, sweetheart."

Nick groaned and buried his face deeper into the crook of Mark's neck. For a moment she thought the groan was an acknowledgement of her presence, but then she felt the cool sweat coating his skin where she was touching his shoulder, felt the way the barely noticeable tremors coursed through his upper body as he twitched in his sleep and hugged Mark closer. She'd come to realize that he held Mark closer and tighter whenever he was in the middle of a nightmare, and considering how tightly Nick was holding on, she was astounded that the force of his grip hadn't woken Mark up. But she also knew she was doing the right thing by making Nick visit Lyra's grave this morning. Letting him sleep peacefully once more, letting him relax and remember his past without all of that anger and fear was critical.

"Nick, come on, I've got a surprise for you," Carole insisted, shaking the boy a little more roughly and attempting to roll him away from Mark.

"No," Nick whined sleepily. A few more mumbled words that sounded suspiciously like "Mark" and "warm" followed as Mark's arm curled around Nick and pulled him closer.

Carole sighed in exasperation. This was the exact reason she'd gotten up at the crack of dawn because she knew getting Nick awake and separating him from Mark would take as long as the three hour drive to Conesville_. _Okay, maybe not quite, but it would still take a while. As adorable as they were, their attachment to each other was definitely going to be a detriment to her plans today.

With a great heave, Carole rolled Nick onto his back and tapped his cheek. "Wake up, Nick," she ordered. "We're going on a road trip."

Nick blinked up at her groggily, scratching his bare chest. There were still a few spots there from some fading bruises that were yellow in color, but he no longer had to wrap his ribs up and was nearly healed in that regard. His final appointment for both his eye and his ribs was set for a week after the wedding, and Carole knew how anxious he was to finally be allowed to move around like a normal person again. Mark's final appointment, before the more intense aspects of his physical therapy began, was set for the morning after the wedding. Carole and Niall would be taking Mark in for that and then setting out for their long honeymoon weekend together.

" 's too early," Nick argued, making to roll back over into Mark's side. "Sleep is for dawn. Road trips are for dusk."

"Then you can sleep in the car," Carole insisted, holding him in place so he couldn't roll over. "I'll even buy you McDonalds breakfast."

At the mention of food Nick perked up a little, rubbing his uncovered eye and propping himself up on his elbows. "You would tempt me with greasy, delicious food," Nick grumbled.

"I'm not above cheap bribery," Carole retorted playfully. At this point Nick didn't need help sitting up or getting out of bed, so Carole stood up and watched him untangle himself from the blankets. A moment later Nick twisted back to shake Mark awake, but Carole latched onto his hand quickly and stopped him.

"No. Mark's not going," she told him quietly. "This is just you and me, okay?"

"I– all right," Nick replied, looking rather confused, but Carole knew the boy trusted her. Not as much as he trusted Mark, but enough for this. At least she hoped so.

Carole waited until Nick was up on his feet and searching for clean clothes before she left his room and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. About fifteen minutes later, Nick appeared, hair limp and dripping wet, in a pair of jeans, a striped shirt and dark red sweater that Mark had insisted on buying him last week. Nick had curled his lips at the addition of the sweater, because compared to thestriped shirt it definitely wasn't his style, but Carole could see what Mark had successfully aimed for now. It did look fantastic on Nick, even though he did keep tugging at the buttons.

"That's a nice sweater," Carole complimented as she poured herself some coffee for the road.

Nick glanced down and tugged on where it was buttoned across his stomach. "It's all right, I guess," Nick muttered. "I think I'll stick to basic t-shirts and jeans." He looked back up. "And bow ties for special occasions like weddings."

Carole smiled at the last part, glad that Mark seemed to have finally convinced him to wear a suit for the wedding. "Mark finally talked you into it, then?" she asked as they grabbed their coats, gloves, and scarves and headed out to her car.

"Not really," Nick shrugged. "I just like messing with him. The bow tie was my idea. It's the only tie I ever learned how to tie. I used to wear them as a kid."

A little pang of sadness twisted in Carole's chest as she unlocked her car and got inside. "Bow ties are hard, that's impressive. I don't think even I know how to tie a bow tie properly."

Nick raised his eyebrows as Carole started driving and mused, "Lots of things are hard. In fact, you woke me up at dawn and took me away from my favorite one of those for this_ surprise._"

Out of the corner of her eye Carole saw Nick make air quotes, and despite the inappropriateness of the comment she chuckled, but didn't elaborate on where they were going. As promised she stopped by the McDonalds next to the highway to load up on breakfast food for Nick from the drive-thru.

By the time they were twenty miles out, Nick had finished the huge bag of food and was grumbling in his sleep once more. He slept until they were just outside of Westerville, finally waking up because of the bright sunlight hitting him in the face. If he recognized where they were he didn't say anything. They talked a little bit after he woke up, mostly about the wedding and what their living situation would be after. It was only when they passed the huge sign for Conesville that Nick froze. Even out of the corner of her eye, Carole could see him tensing and looking agitated.

"Where are we going?" Nick asked sharply.

Carole debated being vague for half a second before deciding it would only make things worse. Besides, Nick deserved honesty, needed it for their relationship to work at all.

"We're going to visit your mother's grave, Nick," she said calmly, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as she exited the highway.

"You're– we're–" Nick swallowed loudly and slid down into his seat, curling in on himself a little and placing his feet on the dashboard.

As soon as they were officially off the highway Carole pulled into a gas station and parked. Nick was still curled in on himself, arms crossed tightly over his chest with a surly, terrified look on his face. She'd never seen him look so young, so scared or vulnerable, and the instant she saw the expression she knew she was doing something right. He might protest and fight against this right now, but some day he would thank her for this, even come out here on his own just to talk to her or bring his own kids to visit.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, Nick," Carole started, gently reaching across and squeezing his shoulder. He flinched a little and squirmed in his seat. "But I am driving us out to where she's buried. If we spend two hours sitting in silence in the car, then that's fine. I just... I want to give you this chance to have a way to still connect to her. A place to go to talk things out or remember her without it haunting you. I want you to be able to think or talk about your mother and _smile_."

Nick shifted some more, biting his lip as he stared out the windshield. "I... I d- don't... shouldn't we bring flowers or something?" Nick stammered. "That's what people do when they... when they do _this_, isn't it?"

Instinctively Carole moved her hand from his shoulder to his cheek, brushing the backside of her fingers against his face. Of all the things she'd expected Nick to say right now, that hadn't been one of them. Part of her was swelling with pride, though. Nick was more ready for this than she'd realized, even if he couldn't see it right now. Despite the fact that he seemed to not have been given the opportunity to visit her grave site even though he'd lived only twenty miles from it for most of his life, he was tentatively open to the idea, was even thinking about honoring her in some way with flowers.

She really wanted to remark on how sweet he was to think of it, to even kiss him on the cheek and hug him, but she didn't. Carole offered him a small smile and brushed a stray curl off his forehead. "I'm sure we can find somewhere along the way."

The remainder of the drive was tense. Nick was full of snappy remarks whenever she spoke to him, and he continuously sneered at different buildings and houses they passed, even made a few scathing remarks to the cashier when they stopped to buy flowers. It was after ten when Carole finally turned onto a gravel road. About a mile down the graveyard came into view on the right side. A small church with a half-circle driveway was opposite the rows of graves.

Carole pulled into the little half- loop of gravel and turned the car off. She twisted to look at Nick sitting next to her, head down, fingers playing with the petals on one of the pink roses. The pink roses that Nick had said were Lyra's favorite. Now that they were here Carole felt terribly nervous. She desperately hoped Nick was ready – willing – to take this next step in his life. To start to let go of how much his mother's death still haunted him.

"We're here, sweetheart," Carole said softly.

Nick nodded jerkily, but didn't move to get out of the car. Carole sighed, and sat back to wait, reaching across to take hold of Nick's hand and squeeze it. She didn't know how long they sat there in silence. A handful of cars made their way past to what she thought must be a farm down the road. A tracker came by as well, but Nick remained seated, brushing his fingers over the soft rose petals.

"She– she used to braid them into her hair," Nick said suddenly, and Carole looked over. There was a look in his eyes that was unfamiliar to her. Carole could see the memories there, the pain and the longing hidden in his eyes. "One time I... I begged her to put a bunch i- in my hair," Nick choked out. "M- my dad thought it was the funniest thing. Even put some in his hair. I started putting them in... in Lily's hair when she got older."

Surprised by the memory Nick had just shared with her, Carole remained silent, squeezing his hand a little tighter as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

"I'm gonna..." Nick trailed off and pulled his hand free, picking the flowers up from his lap and stepping out of the car.

Carole didn't need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he was doing. She watched him close the door slowly, and little by little trudge across the road, up the small hill and into the first row of graves. Part of her mind was imagining the scene he'd just described to her while he paced back and forth through the rows. Nick wandered seemingly aimlessly for a long time, stopping at random ones, and crossing and uncrossing his arms as Carole kept an eye on him. Finally, his steps faltered before one on the far right side. Even from the distance she could visibly see his shoulders rise as he sucked in a steadying breath and stepped forward.

She couldn't tell if he was speaking to the grave or not, but she watched him kneel down and place the flowers against the stone. Carole was almost surprised that he'd made the step and gone over there on their first visit, but Nick had always been full of surprises, both good and bad. And she knew how strong he was, knew how much his life had changed, how much he'd opened up and was more prepared for this thanks to Mark. Carole just hoped now that he'd seen how much better things could be that he could find a way to heal these old wounds enough to not be haunted by them anymore. It would take time, years and years of it, but she knew if anyone could find peace with time despite the intensity of his experience, it was Nick. He'd managed to survive so much, and had finally found somewhere safe for him to work through his past and handle it better than he had the first time.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before Nick got up on his feet and quickly made his way back to the car. The abruptness worried her a little, but all of this was obviously overwhelming for him. After years of trying to forget it all, forget the terrible tragedy he'd come home to and the way his family had one by one disappeared from his life, now he had the opportunity to reclaim some part of that life. To let those memories free and take away some part of that pain. Carole knew he would never fully forget or heal, the same way she would never forget Jake's father or that Niall and Mark wouldn't forget Elizabeth, but she knew it helped.

"Can... can we go now?" Nick asked, fumbling with the belt once he got into the car, his voice shaky and hoarse. "All I can hear– I can't– her _voice_... "

"Shh," Carole soothed, leaning over and finally hugging him like she'd been wanting to do, waiting for this moment when he was finally letting all of this back in, even if it was only the slightest bit. "It's a lot right now, but she would be so proud of you. We _all_ are, Nick."

Nick trembled in her arms, but she could tell he wasn't crying. He wasn't there yet, wasn't ready to let everything out, but she wasn't worried. Letting things out and dealing with them piece by piece was what Nick always did. Someday he would find comfort in coming here and talking to her, and until then Carole would be there to help him come to terms with all the heartache in his young life. She would be there by his side every step of the way, watching him embrace every aspect of his life that he'd needed to shut out in order to survive.

Nick didn't need to shut anything out anymore, though. Everything he needed he'd found with her, Mark, Niall, and Jake. They were a new family, just starting to get used to each other, with their own issues, but they were perfect for Nick. Perfect to help that scared little boy from the hospital become the man Carole kept seeing shine through.

A strange feeling of calmness spread through Nick as soon as he woke up early Monday morning. At first he thought it had to do with not waking up to stare up at the word "FAGGOT" painted on the wall over his bed, or even the yellow square that had replaced it. Then he thought that Mark's warm presence curled into his right side was somehow more soothing than it was normally, but as he blinked slowly a few times and took in the silent room, and the dull gray light filtering in from the windows over his head, he realized what the reason was.

He'd had no nightmares last night. Not old ones about memories of his mother, or new ones involving his sister or Mark or even Carole, Niall, or _Jake_. Nick had no memory of anything he'd dreamed about last night, just a pleasant warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was a nice sensation for him, not waking up shouting, crying, or drenched in his own sweat. Having Mark there with him had usually helped to calm him down, but even Mark's presence hadn't stopped the nightmares from coming. Almost every night since his sister and grandfather had departed he'd had terrible, upsetting dreams that made him feel like his world was being ripped apart. Even waking up in Mark's tight, warm embrace had only done so much to sooth him. That night was unprecedented considering how the last six weeks had been, but as he lay there he remembered where he and Carole had gone yesterday. Nick had only stayed by her headstone for five minutes and it had dumped a ton of old memories on him, but somehow he felt a little lighter – a little more sure of himself even though part of him still felt horribly numb.

After a few moments of staring up at the ceiling – _his_ ceiling, in _his _room – he turned his head and nudged his nose against Mark's forehead, not trying to wake him up but just to feel that closeness and intimacy he'd never found anywhere else. Today he was to start school again. Carole and Mark were adamant that he only stay for half the day, but Nick was just as determined to stay the entire day. He'd been surprised when Niall had taken his side on the matter, but the older man seemed to understand how crazy he was going being cooped up for weeks on end, probably because Niall's own time having to stay at home had been still fresh on his mind.

The alarm clock on the table next to his side of the bed started beeping loudly. Mark groaned and burrowed his face deeper into Nick's shoulder as Nick fumbled for the device and switched it off.

"I think this is the first time I've been excited to go to school since I was ten," Nick said into the silence. Mark shifted a little against him, sighing resignedly and turning his face up enough to kiss the side of Nick's neck.

"You'll change your mind before English is over," he muttered.

"Will not," Nick argued. "I get to spend almost the whole day with you." He uncurled the arm under Mark's side and slid it down his hip to his ass and squeezed. "Maybe I'll get to cop a few good feels, too."

Mark squealed in surprise, and for once Nick was glad his arm was still in a sling because he couldn't smack him in the chest for the pinch.

"Pervert," Mark growled, rolling over and crushing Nick's arm beneath his body.

"Sack of potatoes," Nick teased, rolling with Mark and yanking his arm free. He'd been slightly surprised by how quickly he'd been able to start to move his upper body normally. After his last time dealing with broken ribs he'd expect the same sharp pains that had persisted for close to four months, but his injuries weren't as bad this time around. There'd been no punctured lung or ribs snapped in half, just a few cracks and a lot of deep bruising.

"You're not very useful yourself," Mark retorted, accepting Nick's soft kiss.

"More useful than you," Nick said slyly, sliding his arms around Mark's waist and laying on him as much as possible with his arm sling still in the way. For the most part they'd found it was fine for them to lay like this now, especially since Mark only had a few more days before its removal and had already started some of his physical therapy. "At least _I_ can put my arms around you."

Nick felt Mark pout against his lips as he leaned in to kiss him again. He wasted no time, taking Mark's pouty lip and pulling it between his teeth to suck and nibble on. A soft gasp brushed over his lips as he pulled back, his hands running along Mark's lower back as he shifted his mouth to Mark's jaw line.

"_Nick_," Mark murmured, a note of warning in his voice. These days Nick tended to listen to him, or the ache in his ribs when they were in this position, but Mark's voice wasn't full of pain as it had been those times. And honestly? He was almost positive his ribs were fully healed anyway, even if his final appointment wasn't until next week. He felt fantastic and while he knew there was no chance of doing everything he wanted to do right now, that didn't mean they could at least do _something_.

"_Mark_," Nick mocked, his voice coming out a little rough. Arousal was already surging through him after weeks of not even attempting to be this close to each other. He slid one arm out from under Mark, using it to hold himself up some as he rolled his hips against Mark's thigh. Through the thin fabric of Mark's pajama pants he could feel the other boy's cock, still mostly soft but definitely not for long if he had any say in the matter.

"_Nick_," Mark said again, louder and more breathless as Nick continued to slowly rock his hips and suck on his neck. "Your ribs– "

"Are fine," Nick cut in, sliding his left hand under Mark's shirt and then down to the waistband of his pants. He slipped a few fingers under it and pressed them against Mark's ass, making Mark groan and arch up against him. Mark was just tugging him down for what he hoped was going to be an intense, passionate, and desperate kiss when someone cleared their throat loudly behind them.

Nick jerked his hips down once more as Mark pulled their mouths apart and tried to roll Nick off of him. Reluctantly, Nick rolled onto his side and looked towards the doorway. Niall was standing there, not looking terribly surprised, but still uncomfortable given the situation. It only made Nick want to push the man's buttons more, because it wasn't everyday he had a good chance to mess with Niall.

"It's no wonder you and Carole are a perfect match," Nick quipped. "You both have horrific timing. I swear, every time we're trying to get off– "

"Breakfast in fifteen, guys," Niall cut in sharply. He pointed a stern finger at Nick. "Don't make me split you two up every night."

Nick frowned at him, but said nothing as Niall shook his head. Nick swore he saw a faint smile on Niall's face as he left the room. In a flash Nick had rolled back onto Mark, grinding down against him and sucking on his neck again.

"Let me blow you," he requested, scraping his teeth over the wet skin as Mark squirmed and giggled.

"Nick, the door's wide open," Mark started, gasping slightly as Nick cupped him through the front of his pajama pants.

"I'm an exhibitionist," Nick quipped, gently massaging Mark's balls as he leaned back in and kissed the soft skin right behind Mark's earlobe. "I'm pretty sure that's been obvious since day one."

"The right side of your bed is looking awfully cold tonight, Nick!" Niall hollered down the hall.

With a sad groan Nick stilled and let his head flop down on the pillow, face first, next to Mark's.

"It's about time he had some leverage on you," Mark laughed. "Even if he _is_ using me to do it."

"Hate you," Nick grumbled into the pillow. But then he remembered what this weekend was. The wedding was Friday morning, continuing into the early afternoon and then Mark had his appointment where he'd no long need his sling. After that Niall and Carole were gone until Wednesday on their honeymoon. He'd already convinced Sam to keep Jake out of the house Friday night in exchange for some sort of guitar jam session over winter break. Sam had really come through to get Nick and Mark alone, getting Sarah to drag Jake to a theatre or dance class or something of the like, and then to her house for all of Saturday. "You'll be all mine this weekend," Nick added, nipping Mark on the ear as he pushed himself up a little.

"But Jake will be h– "

"Already taken care of, babe," Nick told him. He curled his tongue around the shell of Mark's ear, eliciting a little gasp and a weak roll of Mark's hips.

"But your ribs– "

"Still fine– "

"But I won't be able to do much with my arm still– "

"I like doing most of the work, or have you already forgotten how hard I used to ride and fuck you?" Nick murmured seductively, moving his lips down to the same spot he'd been sucking on before.

"God, I don't think I could– "

"I think your bed's going to replace the freezer in the kitchen at this rate!"

Mark snorted at his father's shout from the kitchen. The mood Nick had been trying to reclaim vanished, because Mark had _snorted_. Actually snorted loud and clear and as adorable as it was Nick could hardly believe his boyfriend had just made that sound. While it did nothing to keep him hard, it definitely made him fall in love with Mark just a little more.

"I'm going to go shower and get ready," Mark decided, giving him a fleeting kiss on the cheek and getting up out of bed. He turned back in the doorway and smiled. "You better keep that promise about this weekend."

Nick grinned in reply, watching the little sway to Mark's hips as he left the room. He dressed quickly, combed his hair, and grabbed his bag before heading to the bathroom on the other side of the staircase. After a quick brush and floss, he ended up in the kitchen with Niall who was setting a plate piled high with scrambled eggs on the table.

"That one's all yours," Niall grunted as Nick dropped down into the seat in front of it. "Put as much cheese in it as I dared with Mark around."

"He's such a cholesterol drama queen," Nick retorted, grabbing a piece of toast and piling eggs onto it. Just as he was folding the toast over and getting ready to take a bite, Mark strolled in and dropped down next to him.

"Jake just texted me to say he's on his way over since we can't drive right now," Mark informed him. "And I heard that, by the way. That promise is a two way street, Atkinson. I will make you miserable."

"You wouldn't d– "

"I would, Nick Xavier. I absolutely would," Mark retorted sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Ease up on the eggs."

"Why? I'll have you to help me work it all off this weekend," Nick replied with a knowing grin.

"Your bed is about to become the far reaches of space," Niall chimed in loudly.

Mark pulled the remaining plate of eggs out of Nick's reach and started in on his own, much healthier meal. Grumbling mutinously, Nick finished off his egg and toast sandwich and grabbed a handful of orange slices.

Jake arrived ten minutes later, and after a few goodbyes to Niall they hopped into the car and headed to Sanibel. As excited as Nick had been to finally get out of the house and have something to do with his time he hadn't expected all the looks being aimed his way. From the moment he got out of the car, everyone turned to look at him and whisper. Mark had told him there had been an article on the front page about the attack the Sunday after it had happened, but he'd figured nobody would bother to remember it six weeks later. Obviously he'd been wrong. No amount of glaring or sneering or angry looks seemed to deter the whispers, and it was only the reassuring grip Mark had on his right hand that made him keep his temper in check.

Nick hated being noticed, hated invasive questions and just being acknowledged in general. Even his teachers seemed to take notice of him, welcoming him back and holding him back after class to collect any work he'd done while he'd been out. Most of them had been surprised at the stack of papers he'd handed over, including the assignments due for the rest of this week. He'd only rolled his eyes at that, because honestly, what the hell else was he going to do for six weeks? Tap dance to the moon and back?

He'd also been wrong about which classes he had today, which had meant saying goodbye to Mark after English. At first he'd been really annoyed and upset at the fact, but then Mike had found them in the hallway so he could see Kristina and they'd split off, Mark and Kristina heading to their next class and Nick and Mike heading to Calculus. Nick had forgotten the other boy was actually in his class. But then again, Mike tended to sit up front and pay attention, unlike himself.

Today, however, Mike joined him in the back and even though Nick was hesitant at the interaction, by the end of class they were flicking paper footballs at each other and ended up getting held back and scolded for it. He left the room grinning despite himself, because even if he barely knew Mike, the guy was easy- going and didn't ask questions or take things too seriously. An hour and a half of Italian had followed that, and then he headed to the last lunch of the day. Only for the first time since school started, he wasn't eating alone. He'd never realized it, but both Sam and Mike usually sat in the opposite corner of the room from the hidden corner he preferred. They dropped down on the bench across from him and he'd been so surprised he barely remembered to eat.

In Chemistry he had Mark by his side, and Mark's usual lab partner, Emily, who seemed a little nervous by his presence, but relaxed quite a bit once Mark started fussing over him and whether or not he was tired or wanted to head home early. He glared at Mark and then silenced him with a kiss that had made Mrs. Mentore scold him, but had made Emily laugh. The fact that there was someone at Sanibel outside of Perfroming Arts that didn't think him and Mark together was disgusting was definitely a boost for his mood.

As soon as they got back to the house after school Nick headed to the couch, only to find himself being shaken awake by Niall hours later. The rest of the night had gone well for him, and with his homework to finish and a football game Niall asked him to watch he once again slept through the night with no problems. Tuesday followed a similar pattern, and then Wednesday was only a half day at school to start their winter break. Both Niall and Carole were there to pick the three of them up, and take them to pick up their tuxedos and make sure they fit. Everyone except Jake kept shooting him funny looks, and it was only after their tuxedos checked out and were stored in the back of the car that he finally spoke up.

"Why the hell are you three gawking at me every five seconds?" Nick demanded, glaring at the back of the driver's seat. He saw Niall glance up in the rearview mirror and then exchange a look with Carole.

Carole spun around in her seat as Niall continued to drive. For a moment Nick flinched when he realized they were going out of his ankle monitor's radius, but then he remembered he didn't have it anymore. It was still difficult to process and remember when he'd had the thing secured around his calf for almost eighteen months.

"We're going to– it's sort of a surprise," Mark told him.

For one heart stopping moment Nick hoped they were going to meet up with Lily. That they were going to pick her up and bring her back to live with them forever, but he knew that wasn't possible, no matter how many times he dreamed about it.

"What kind of surprise?" Nick asked suspiciously.

"Well, me and Niall were... we were trying to think of a Christmas present for you," Carole explained, "but we didn't know what to get. Mark gave us an idea, but none of us know anything about them so we need you to pick it out– "

"Pick _what_ out?" Nick insisted, his heart sinking even though he'd known all along it had nothing to do with his sister. He also didn't understand what they'd need him to pick it out. It sounded like they were talking about clothes, and Mark was practically an expert on those. Why would they need him there?

"A new guitar," Niall answered when nobody else spoke up. Nick blinked in surprise at his answer, because he hadn't expected that, but he'd definitely missed having one around since it had been destroyed in the break- in. At the same time he didn't want them spending the kind of money that one had cost on him. He knew Niall and Carole both had money saved up, and Carole had made enough by selling her house within the past few weeks that they'd have plenty left over for furnishing the new house, once Niall's house sold, and their honeymoon, but he still didn't feel right about them spending any money on him at all. Every penny should go towards Mark and Jake for college or something, not a _guitar_. Not for Nick.

"Guitars are expensive," Nick insisted lamely, shifting uncomfortably next to Mark. He knew they could easily find one for a few hundred without a problem. He just hated the thought of them spending even _more_ money on him. If he'd had a job by now he wouldn't mind so much because he could pay rent and use the money he still had left from his grandfather for additional purchases, but he didn't have that regular income. The money was quickly dwindling from all the new clothes he'd had to buy, as well as the rent he'd forced Niall to take at the beginning of December.

"It's Christmas time, kiddo, and it's not like you're going to ask for a Gibson" Niall said, a little uncertainty creeping into his tone alongside his attempt at making a light hearted joke. "We can at least look and save buying one for summer or Easter or something if you're uncomfortable."

"A guitar for _Easter_?" Nick echoed. Even the idea of it sounded ridiculous to him as Niall pulled off the main road and onto a side street. A few minutes later they pulled into a tiny shopping center where a little music shop was tucked away.

"That's why the plan is for Christmas," Niall retorted with a little chuckle as they all climbed out of the car and headed towards the shop. When Nick remained silent, Niall added, "It's not like it's something you'll never use, Nick. You've been playing the piano in the hall from the time Mark leaves for school in the morning until he returns."

"I'm back in school now," Nick argued. "I won't play as much."

"But you love to play," Carole said with conviction. "It's something you could even pursue in college."

Nick clamped his lips shut as Jake pushed the little shop door open and held it for them to all troop inside. He couldn't imagine himself going to college at all. Hell, this time last year he couldn't have even pictured himself graduating high school, but now he thought he might see a glimmer of hope where that was concerned. Nick tried not to think about the possibility of college as the door closed behind him. It's not like he'd ever be able to afford that anyway, and he'd refuse any help Carole or Niall offered because they had their own sons to worry about helping.

The middle aged man at the register called a greeting to them as they entered and headed towards the large rack full of guitars on the left wall opposite the registers.

"Anything I can help you guys with?"

"'Uh, no, no," Niall decided after a moment. "I think Nick's got a handle on it."

"Let me know if you need anything!"

Nick had already moved towards the wall, sliding between a few pianos to pick up one of the acoustics. He knew his old guitar had been incredibly expensive since his grandfather had bought it, but right now he wanted to just find something cheap that sounded good so they didn't spend all of their money on him.

Jake had disappeared to the back where the drums were set up, and Carole and Mark plopped down on a bench as he looked a few of the models over. Finally, Nick settled on a Fender, with the sunburst finish he was fond of, dropping down onto a stool and giving it a quick strum. He winced as soon as he hit the first string. It was horribly out of tune.

"Want a tuner?" the guy at the counter asked, holding one up.

Nick was surprised to find the man had been watching him the whole time, but he shook his head. "I'd rather do it by ear."

The man nodded at him, and slid the tuning device back into the glass display case under the registers. "I'm the same way. Best way to do it, really. Can't depend on a tuner if its lost– "

The door of the shop opened and with a final glance the man moved over to greet the newest customers, a woman and her daughter.

Nick took his time tuning, smiling slightly as Mark pressed the notes on the piano that he was tuning the strings to. He was vaguely aware of the guy working up front apologizing to the woman about something, and explaining something about lessons, but as he finish tuning the last string just right he stopped trying to listen in and tested out a few riffs.

Even the first few notes made his eye close and loosen the tight knot in his chest from worrying about money. Nothing could hurt him here, not while he was playing and feeling and just existing with the guitar strings rough against his finger tips and the hollow wooden humming against his chest. And the guitar sounded surprisingly good. Nothing compared to the professional grade one he'd had before, but it was still fantastic.

"Sounds like you never stopped," Mark said from his left. His fingers finally paused as he opened his eyes and looked up.

Before Nick could reply, a few notes were tapped out on one of the pianos behind Mark. He looked over to see the same little girl sitting there while her mother continued to talk with the employee up front. After clearing his throat gruffly, Nick looked over the guitar, checking various parts and things before testing a few others, making sure to stay away from the more expensive ones, but finding he liked the first one best.

A wave of guilt crashed over him as Niall and Carole moved up to the register to buy it. He hated having them spend money on him, even if it what only a couple hundred dollars. They already did more than enough for him. The employee moved over to help them, leaving the slightly annoyed woman to look over a notebook or brochure.

Mark had disappeared to the back to find Jake, and Nick was left standing there, squirming guiltily as Niall and Carole checked out. He couldn't stand to watch them, and he was just getting ready to leave when the same four notes, the last one still too flat, were played on the piano behind him. Nick turned to see the little girl still sitting there, a music book propped up on the piano and her tongue poking out of her mouth as she tried to play the piece.

His heart constricted tightly at the sight, and even though the girl was blond and several years younger than Lily he was still reminded of her. Reminded of how he'd once taught her to play the same way his mother had shown him how to play. Nick took a few tentative steps towards her, nervous about her mother noticing and freaking out or even pulling the girl away from him because to her he could be just some crazy delinquent. The fact that his ankle monitor was gone, all of his piercings had been removed at the hospital and he hadn't bothered to put them back in didn't even cross his mind as he moved to the side of the piano and watched her struggle.

"The last one should be F sharp," he directed softly.

The young girl startled at the sound of his voice and looked up as he dropped down onto the bench beside her and played the four quarter notes correctly. At first he thought his eye patch would frighten her, but she didn't seem too bothered by it after she got over the initial shock of him appearing. He'd grown used to playing with his eye patch on after all these weeks, but it still felt slightly weird to him. Luckily the girl was on his right side so he could turn to look at her. Still not entirely sure why he was doing this, Nick waited to see if she'd repeat the notes to him, and when she did, he pointed to the little piano exercise in the book, and placed his finger on the symbol that indicated the F was sharp.

"Any note with that next to it means its sharp," Nick explained kindly. "It means the note goes up half a step, which is what the black keys are for." He played a few chords and notes with a lot of flats and sharps to demonstrate. "To make any note sharp you just move over to the first key to the right, which is usually a black key unless it's a B or an E, then it's the white key next to it."

The girl nodded quietly to him, and followed the patterns he played for the next few minutes, alternating between the main notes and the sharps.

"Give me an E sharp," he said quickly, smiling brightly as the girl hit the right note. "Awesome job!"

"You wanna try the exercise again?" Nick asked her, completely unaware of the audience they now had. He hadn't noticed that Jake and Mark had returned and were watching, or that the four adults up front had stopped to watch them in surprise.

It wasn't until he counted them off slowly and started to play along with her to help her keep time that he looked up and found Mark's eyes on him. A huge smile was on Mark's face, the same one that made his heart pound and brought a faint blush to his face, the one that Nick was pretty sure meant that Mark was _proud_ of him.

As they finished the exercise he congratulated her on playing it right, and then tensed as an unfamiliar hand fell on his shoulder.

"I think you've found yourself a new guy to teach lessons, Adam," the girl's mother said, smiling kindly down at him. It wasn't a look Nick was used to adults directing at him, but he hesitantly returned the smile as the woman collected her daughter and said she'd be back the same time next week for her daughter's lesson with him. The fact that she meant Nick flew straight over his head until she was gone and the employee – Adam, he thought she'd said – grabbed a music book off the shelf and set it down in front of him.

"Think you can play that?" he asked Nick. "That's what our most advanced kids are playing right now."

Nick glanced at it and then smirked. "Oh, please, I could play that in my sleep," Nick quipped as he started to play the song. "Hell, I can play it with one damn eye."

Adam laughed, sounding relived as he watched Nick continue to play through the song. The man raced off to find more sheet music, returning a few minutes later with something extremely advanced that Nick played through with no problem. He felt himself flushing with pride as he finished, his stomach flipping as his loved ones applauded him.

"God, please, tell me you're interested in the job," Adam practically begged. "Our last guy up and quit without any notice this morning, and now I've only got two teachers and neither of them can play piano and I can't do all the lessons for it by myself."

"I- I, uh... " Nick stammered in amazement. He'd been looking for a job for almost eight months, had been desperate to find one now that Niall and Carole had taken him in and wanted to pay for everything, but he'd never expected one to just fall into his lap like this.

"It'll only be part-time, of course," Adam continued quickly, looking anxious. "Weekend mornings and a few nights a week. Same schedule every week unless you need a day off or I do, then we'll just switch it around. If it's cool with you, I'd also have you up here for some parts of your shifts, too, once I teach you how to run the register and make sure you're up to speed on everything we carry, what do you say?"

"S- sure," Nick stuttered, taking himself by surprise at how readily he'd accepted the offer. Besides, he loved to play music, whether it was piano, guitar, or anything else he could get his hands on, and it wasn't everyday he got a job offer. Most of the time they didn't even give him a chance for an interview, because of his ankle m–

Nick glanced down, and wiggled his foot a little. Adam didn't know he'd been in trouble without it on. Would he change his mind once he looked into Nick's background and found out? And then something his grandfather had once told him came back to him. As long as he was a minor they couldn't look at his record until he was eighteen. Everything from before was confidential and sealed until next October. He'd known that for a long time, and it was one of the main reasons he'd hated the ankle monitor so much in the first place. With that on it didn't matter if employers couldn't see his criminal records. All they had to do was glance down to know he was trouble, but not now.

"Really?" Adam beamed. Nick wouldn't even have been surprised to find that the other man had pissed himself. "When do you think you can start? Sunday maybe? We're slowest on Sundays, so I can teach you everything, jam a little, but– can you, um, drive with that?"

Adam nodded towards his eye patch.

"I'm supposed to get it off next week, but I can always skate over," Nick decided.

"I can drive him," Mark offered quickly, beaming as brightly as Adam was. He raised his sling. "I get this off Friday and I'll be good to go." Nick was suddenly tugged off the bench by his boyfriend and as Carole and Niall finished checking out. Adam passed him some papers to fill out, took down his name, address and phone number, and decided on a time for him to come by on Sunday.

Nick felt dazed as they left the little shop and piled back into the car. For most of the night he kept digging into his pocket and pulling the slip of paper with the store's phone number and the time for his first shift out just to make sure it was still real. The five of them watched a movie after dinner, and once it was over, Nick did something he'd never thought he'd actually do.

As Mark followed him towards his room for the night he stopped and turned around, pulling Mark into his arms for a tight hug. He pressed a soft kiss to his neck and whispered, "I think I'm gonna try things on my own tonight, okay?"

Mark stiffened a little in his arms, but he felt the other boy nod against his cheek. "Okay," Mark murmured. "If you need _anything_... "

"I'll know where to find you," Nick finished. "Same thing goes for you. If... if you have any bad dreams you can come up here."

Mark pulled back, a little smile on his face as he nodded once more. As much as Nick wanted to sleep in the same bed with Mark every night, he also wanted to be able to do it on his own without nightmares. It wasn't possible for them to sleep in the same bed every night, no matter how much he wished it were.

"I love you," Mark said.

Nick leaned back in, his fingers stroking Mark's cheek. "I know," he assured him, because with his own epiphany about their relationship and future, he'd realized that Mark was just as scared as he was to lose this. That only together were they ever going to make this work for as long as they both hoped it would. "I love you, too," Nick told him. He kissed Mark gently once more. "Sweet dreams."

He watched Mark disappear down the hall before heading into his own room, feeling responsible and grown up. Niall would surely approve, Nick mused as he kicked his jeans off and pulled his shirt over his head before he collapsed onto his bed. Nick slept fitfully for a few hours, waking up scared and sweaty to find that Mark was there, crawling under the covers and snuggling close to him. The next few days passed in the same way. They both tried to sleep on their own, but nightmares kept cropping up and they ended up in each other's rooms anyway.

The morning of the wedding dawned, and for Nick everything was a huge, bizarre blur. Mark was rushing around making sure everything was perfect, Jake was half-strangling himself with his tie every time he tried to tie it, and Niall was flustered and bobbing around anxiously while he waited for the ceremony to start. All of New Directions was there as well, and while Nick and Mark had to sit out the dance down the aisle to start the wedding because of their lingering injuries, everything was amazing. Niall had even insisted on pulling Nick up to stand with the wedding party, and Mark was teary eyed by the end of Carole and Niall's speeches.

Nick spent most of the reception trying to get Mark to sneak off instead of twirling around on the dance floor, but he settled for a calm, easy swaying when Mark told him very firmly that they'd have time for that later. It was the most fun Nick could remember having had in a long time, and even the slight dread he felt about Mark's appointment afterwards couldn't stop him from smiling brightly all afternoon. The trip to the doctor's office was short and quick. Mark's arm sling was taken off, and they spent some time flexing and stretching his arm before going over the schedule for his remaining physical therapy.

After that Carole drove them all back to Niall's house where she smothered them all with several hugs and kisses before her and Niall left for their honeymoon. Nick was anxious and excited for the next few hours, waiting for Jake to finally leave so that him and Mark could have the house to themselves. Sam showed up at around dusk and dragged Jake away for the night while Mark was showering. Nick raced down to Mark's room, dropping onto the bed while he listened to the shower run in the adjacent bathroom.

The sound was just starting to lull him to sleep when the water cut off, and a few minutes later Mark appeared, still dripping wet with a towel held loosely around his waist. Nick blinked the sleep out of his eyes, smiling widely at the sight, his cock starting to harden already.

"You should have saved the shower for later," Nick called out, making Mark jump. "After we're done you're going to need another one.

"Nick!" Mark gasped in surprise, clutching the towel a little tighter, and looking self-conscious. "I'm n- not wearing anything– "

"I've kissed every inch of your naked body," Nick reminded him, standing up and walking over to Mark, feeling slightly nervous himself. They'd barely had the chance to get used to each other before the attack had happened. Now, they'd spent the past six weeks without sex, just a lot of silly teasing and soft kisses.

"That's true," Mark said breathlessly, watching Nick stop in front of him. Nick reached up and stroked his cheek gently, running his other hand through Mark's damp hair.

"Here," Nick murmured, taking hold of the towel and tugging it loose. "Let me dry you off, baby."

A faint gasp fell from Mark's parted lips as Nick looped the towel around Mark's waist and dragged it up his back, grabbing a handful and slowly rubbing it over his hair. Nick took his time, massaging Mark's scalp and placing a few feather light kisses on the corners of his mouth and his cheeks. In a way this felt like the first time for them all over again, the first time since he'd completely opened himself up and told Mark his fears about them and their future. He was Mark's now so much more than he was then, was ready to give Mark everything he'd wanted to give him the first time they'd done this. Only he hadn't known how then, had still been afraid and rough. Part of him still felt guilty about his roughness the night Mark had lost his virginity, no matter how many times Mark said he'd loved it. He wanted to do this kinder than he had before, wanted Mark to feel all of the love Nick had for him.

As Nick finished drying Mark's hair he cast the towel aside and pulled Mark flush against his chest, tangling one arm tightly around Mark's waist as the other hand guided Mark's mouth towards his. "You're everything to me, Mark," Nick whispered, brushing their noses together before kissing him Nick took things slow, gently coaxing Mark's lips apart with his tongue, tried to be as tender and loving as Mark had been the first time he'd topped. He wanted to return that sweetness to Mark, to show him what he still struggled to put into words sometimes.

Mark pulled back from his kiss after a few moments, breathing shallowly, eyes slightly glassy. Against his thigh, Nick could already feel Mark growing hard. "I feel a little underdressed," Mark sighed, his hands tugging at the hem of Nick's shirt.

Without a word, Nick raised his arms above his head, letting Mark pull his shirt off and over his head. As Mark brought him close again, Nick felt the dampness of Mark's skin against his chest and sucked in a deep breath.

"You're still wet," Nick told him, sucking in a bead of water on Mark's neck. "Let me try something different to get you dry."

Mark moaned at his words, so Nick bent down and pressed his open mouth to Mark's shoulder, alternating between sucking the water droplets off his clean skin, and lapping the beads up with his tongue. Nick followed the trails down Mark's chest, dropping to his knees to catch one bead on Mark's navel. He pressed his tongue against it firmly, making Mark's hips rock into him and his erection brush against Nick's neck. But for now he ignored Mark's cock, and instead focused on the trail of water, using his tongue to trace the path up Mark's toned stomach, over his ribs, to his nipple where he stopped.

"Nick," Mark breathed, his hips jerking once more as his fists tangled into Nick's curls.

Nick hummed softly against the little nub, flicking his tongue against it a few times before sucking the soft skin into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. He stopped only when he felt Mark trembling so much his knee started to shake. A few kisses were pressed along Mark's stomach, following the wet trail back down as Nick's hands slid down his back, dropping to the curve of his ass.

"You're beautiful like this," Nick mumbled against Mark's navel, his hands kneading Mark's ass cheeks as his mouth teased the tight skin just above the base of Mark's cock. "Naked, perfect, and wanting."

"B- bed," Mark stammered, whimpering loudly when Nick pressed his lips to the side of Mark's cock, his tongue sliding out to tug at his ball sack. "Nick, _please_, I– "

Nick was back on his feet instantly, walking Mark backwards towards the bed with firm kiss. Mark's knees buckled when they hit the mattress and Nick let him drop down and slide up to lay against the pillows as he stumbled over to Mark's dresser in search of lube and condoms. His own cock throbbed angrily as the zipper of his pants rubbed over it, and Nick bit back a groan as he tugged the top drawer open. The lube and condoms were buried at the bottom, but Nick pulled them out quickly and returned to the bed, pausing at the sight that greeted him. Mark was stretched out, pale skin still damp looking as he slowly stroked himself and arched up off the bed slightly.

Nick whimpered at the sight, dropping the bottle and box onto the mattress as Mark sat up and tugged him forward by the waistband of his pants.

"You need to be naked now," Mark ordered, kissing his stomach, and teasing the dark hairs that lined it with his tongue as he tugged the button open.

Nick groaned in agreement, tangling one hand through Mark's hair as his zipper was pulled down. Mark pushed his boxers and pants down his hips, his mouth moving down to the newly exposed skin. As much as he loved what Mark was going right now, the way his mouth was moving along the side of Nick's cock, Nick had to push Mark away a little in order to fully get rid of his pants and step out of them.

"Lie back down, Mark," Nick requested softly, fumbling for the bottle he'd dropped. Mark shifted back across the bed, laying down on his back and reaching out a hand for Nick. Without any hesitation Nick took it, and let himself be tugged onto the bed, catching himself as he dropped down over Mark.

He leaned down for a reassuring kiss, one hand drifting down to stroke the soft skin over Mark's hip bone.

"How's your shoulder?" Nick asked as he kissed the other man on the cheek and shifted his legs until they were settled between Mark's.

"Sore from being used so much all of a sudden, but fine," Mark assured him. "I want you filling me up and pressed against me," he continued earnestly, fixing Nick with a trusting gaze to dispel any worries

Nick laughed a little, and said, "That's kind of the plan."

"Good," Mark sighed, his eyes drifting closed. "I've missed this, missed _you_."

"I'm not going anywhere," Nick promised, kissing him once more. Mark smiled widely as Nick pulled back and sat up on his knees, uncapping the lube bottle and coating his fingers. He spread it out between his fingers, warming it up as he dropped his mouth to Mark's cock laying flat against his stomach.

Nick sucked along the underside, smiling slightly at the little mewls of pleasure and the loud, pleased sighs escaping Mark.

"Mmm, feels so nice," Mark murmured above him, and then his hips jolted as Nick's slick fingers pressed down between his ass cheeks and started to massage the rim of Samered skin. "Oh_, yes!_"

The sudden approach to Mark's sensitive area had made him yelp, and Nick swallowed thickly, trying to gain some control over his breathing as Mark writhed under his mouth and hand, but when he slowly pushed his middle finger through the ring of muscles Mark moaned in such a wanton way that he gave up. His own cock bobbed against his stomach, aching for some kind of friction as he thrust his finger slowly, watching and feeling the way Mark's muscles clench ed tightly around him.

"God, more, Nick," Mark panted, arching towards his hand as Nick tried to remember what he'd been doing with his mouth. Mark's hard cock bumped against his lips as he pressed a second finger inside, and he instinctively sucked the head into his mouth, his entire body shivering at the cry that Mark gave.

A broken moan followed as he started to thrust his fingers more quickly and bob his head, swallowing as much of Mark as he could considering he was already breathing heavily. One of Mark's hands tangled into his hair as Mark's hips moved, rolling with the tempo of his mouth on him.

Nick pressed a third finger inside as Mark's body jerked under him, and pulled his mouth off Mark's cock as he started to stretch his fingers apart inside Mark.

"Now, Nick. I want you inside me _now_," Mark pleaded, one hand fumbling over the bed until he found the lube. Nick took it from him wordlessly, slowly retracting his fingers as he sat back up, found the condoms and rolled one onto his cock. Mark had raised his head enough to watch him as he coated his aching cock with lube.

Yes, _yes, come on"_ Mark moaned desperately, wrapping his legs around Nick's waist to pull him closer. Breathing heavily, Nick leaned forward, holding himself up with his right hand as he hovered over Mark. With his left hand he ran the head of his cock over Mark's stretched hole, moaning with Mark at the sensation.

"God," Nick whimpered, lining himself up and starting to press in. "You feel so perfect."

"So do you," Mark agreed, gasping loudly as Nick slid in a few more inches. "Keep going. I want to feel all of you."

Nick obeyed, inwardly smiling at how his boyfriend's – boyfriend! _His_ boyfriend's – bossy attitude had now seeped into his behavior during sex. He dropped his forehead down onto Mark's chest as he pushed in until Mark's ass was pressed against his ball sack. He moaned loudly as Mark's back arched up towards him, his hips thrusting shallowly at an angle he remembered meant he'd brush over Mark's prostate. Mark's legs tightened around his waist, his left hand pulling Nick up for a hungry kiss that Nick let himself surrender to.

Everything felt perfect to him in that moment. Being joined together with Mark like this had always been incredible, had always taken his breath away in a way sex with anyone else never had, but this right now was different somehow. He felt like he was giving more of himself, felt like he was completely giving himself over to Mark in a way he'd not been able to before. Looking at Mark come apart under his touch and want him, knowing that he loved him exactly for who he was made Nick's heart jolt painfully and the love he felt for Mark in combination with how good it felt to be close to him was overwhelming.

They shared a few more soft kisses as Nick slowly thrust in and out, letting Mark's body get used to the feeling after so many weeks without it.

"Arch your back," Nick requested softly, easing a hand under Mark's body to guide him, acutely aware of Mark's skin sliding under his fingertips, raising his ass a little higher and holding him there as his thrusts sped up.

Mark cried out at the new angle, arching up more with the support of Nick's hands until only his head was pressing into the mattress, his back curving sharply as Nick traced one hand over his stomach and chest, teasing his nipples with his fingers as he rolled his hips a little harder.

He couldn't see Mark's face because of how much his back was bent, but he could hear his panting, breathless moans, feel the way he clenched tightly around his cock, could even feel Mark's cock against his stomach, throbbing and slick with pre-come.

"Harder," Mark moaned, his hands fisting into the bedding. "God, harder, Nick."

The meaning of the words took a while to get actually absorbed and as soon as Nick really heard them, truly absorbed that Mark was asking him to fuck him, a new layer of arousal shot through his body and he growled as he jerked his hips harder while still doing everything in his power to keep the tempo from speeding up, which he could feel would make him come right then. As much as his body and heart were throbbing and screaming for release, Mark's pleasure being a priority penetrated it. Mark's body was trembling against him in a way he'd never felt before. He was making noises and moaning so desperately that Nick was getting light-headed from it, but he tried to rein in his arousal that was close to tipping over. Right now he was focusing on Mark, focusing on making the gorgeous man withering against him feel as much pleasure and love as he could possibly give him.

As Nick's hand traced over Mark's nipple, his ass clenched tighter around Nick, moaning so brokenly and for so long that Nick didn't think it was going to end. He didn't _want _it to end. Nick bent his head, stretching his neck a little and closing his lips over the taut pink bud his fingers had just brushed over. Just as the first moan had ended, Mark gasped and cried out louder, his body shaking and jerking against Nick's hard thrusts.

"Come for me, Mark," Nick breathed against Mark's nipple, sucking on it again, harder this time and rubbing the tip of his tongue against it. Mark's entire body tensed against him as he sucked on his nipple, his breathing becoming loud and harsh as Nick thrust harder. It was the tender brush of Nick's fingers over Mark's other nipple that made the tension in Mark's body snap, made him jerk and arch and shout Nick's name as his cock twitched between them as he came.

It took all of Nick's strength not to follow Mark over the edge, but he slowed his thrusts down, turning the hard, pounding jerk of his hips that had been shaking Mark's whole body, into gentle, shallow thrusts as Mark's come coated his stomach. Mark groaned loudly as he sunk back into the mattress and Nick dropped down into his arms, panting and stilling his hips so that he didn't come.

Mark brushed his sweaty curls off his forehead, and cupped his face, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "I want to see you come," Mark whispered between gasps of breath. "Fuck me as hard as you want. I want you to feel as good as you just made me feel."

Nick whimpered a little as he propped himself up on his elbows, burying his face against Mark's neck as he rolled his hips experimentally. Mark gasped a little from the movement, but then his hands closed over Nick's ass cheeks and urged him to keep moving. Between the tight grip, and the encouraging, eager words being whispered against his ear, his body, already strung up tight from Mark's orgasm, spiraled quickly, his muscles tightening and aching as he thrust faster, feeling Mark's heat tighten around him as a pair of teeth nibbled on his earlobe.

A warm tongue swept out to soothe the skin and Mark's hoarse, breathy voice whispered, "I'm so proud to be yours."

The hushed, soft words sent him over the edge, his stomach flooding with pleasure at the thought of how much Mark loved him, how much the man beneath him had helped him and given him a reason to care and love once more. A loud moan vibrated along Mark's neck as Nick's cock throbbed and his balls tightened up, his breath searing his throat as a wave of pleasure engulfed him, pulsing along his limbs and torso. His hips kept jerking sporadically as he collapsed against Mark's chest, groaning and panting as he came.

Nick was almost certain he blacked out for a few minutes because the next thing he knew was that Mark's arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding him close and tightly against Mark's sweaty chest as they both breathed heavily.

"I love you," Nick said softly, kissing the side of Mark's neck and sliding his own arms around Mark's tired body.

"And I love you," Mark replied, squeezing him tighter and kissing his forehead.

Nick snuggled deeper into Mark's embrace, letting his eyes drift close as he stroked Mark's side and Mark's hand lazily combed through his curls. He slept soundly for several hours before his dreams turned dark. In the dream, Mark had woken him up, showering his body with kisses. But as soon as Nick went to return the gesture, everything solid beneath him dropped out and he fell hard onto the piano that had once sat in his parents' foyer. Nick could hear the soft cries of his sister coming from inside the chipped and rotten wood. Just as he was trying to break it open and pull her out and into his waiting arms, his mother's lifeless face appeared in the swirls and forms of the rot festering in the dark wood of the piano. The face started screaming, blaming him for everything–

He woke with a start, shooting up into a sitting position to find Mark by his side, looking tearful and scared.

"I– did I wake you?" Mark choked out tearfully. "I'm sorry– I just– "

"Shh, I had a nightmare, too. It's okay, " Nick whispered leaning forward and pulling Mark into his lap as more tears started to fall. In the face of Mark's sobs his own nightmares meant little to him. The one he had just had was nowhere near the worse ones he'd had before. "You're safe here, Mark. We're both safe here. We're home," Nick murmured soothingly against Mark's sweaty hair.

For a long time he sat there and rocked Mark in his arms, the same way Mark did when he was the one scared. Nick didn't ask about Mark's dream, didn't ask what sort of terrible images his mind had created. He knew he didn't like to be asked right after, not even the next day. He talked about his nightmares when he was ready, and he'd allow Mark the same chance. Their relationship was about them coming together and being equal, about sharing themselves together and being there for each other at their lowest and their highest.

As Mark's cries subsided Nick lowered them back against the pillows and pulled the blankets up around them, showering Mark's cheek with light, adoring kisses and then nuzzling softly against him until he felt Mark sink deeper into his arms as his breathing even out. It was going to take them time to overcome this, the same way it was going to take many long visits to his mother's grave before he could think back and smile, but as long as he had Mark with him he knew he was okay. As long as they were in love and together everything in his life was more perfect than he'd ever imagined it could be. Niall could hardly believe it had been six months since everything had finally settled into place. His life was still chaotic, especially since him and Carole were now raising three teenage boys, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Everything had changed so much since this time last year. Last June he'd been estranged from Jake after the incident in Mark's room, his son had been absolutely miserable in a million different ways he could barely understand, and his relationship with Carole had been tense and rocky. Now he was married, Mark was far more in love and happy than Niall had ever thought it was possible for him to be, and him and Jake were quite close and sinking back into their father- son dynamic.

The fact that a lot of it had seemed to stem from what he had once thought would be the source of even more trouble was only rarely surprising to him now. Nick had flipped his life over on its head, stomped it into dust, and then unknowingly settled down and re- built it. Without him Mark wouldn't be the man who smiled brightly at him every morning or talked happily about every little thing going on in his life.

How much Nick had revealed about himself since their first encounter amazed him, too. There was still the occasional lewd comment, more teasing now than irritating, but Niall was almost fond of those moments now. Seeing that old, dangerous fire in Nick's eyes and voice for just those brief moments reminded him of how much they'd all grown and changed since September.

He stepped out into the garage where his boys were rumbling around in the built- in shed, or more correctly, where Jake and Mark were buried to their waists in junk as they dug out all of their bicycles. Nick was sitting on the hood of the Mustang, looking grouchy and sulky. Niall's brow crinkled as he closed the door behind himself and watched them.

Ever since Mark had suggested they take a family biking trip every weekend once they were out of school and the weather was nice enough, Nick had been angry and irritated. Saturday marked the first of what Mark was hoping would be a summer full of biking trips, but Niall somehow doubted it would last. While him and Carole would still continue to do it, for the sake of his heart's health and her own health, Niall knew once summer really got going the boys would all go their separate ways every Saturday afternoon.

"Ouch, Jake! That's my _head_ you're dropping things on!" Mark screeched from inside the shed as a basketball bounced over the little hills of junk and landed at Nick's feet. Nick glared down at the orange globe and then kicked it back into the shed. A loud squeal of pain echoed out and Jake tumbled out into the garage, Mark not far behind.

"Dude, what the hell?" Jake growled angrily, rubbing his nose from where the ball had hit him.

"Don't drop things on my boyfriend, Hudson," Nick retorted disinterestedly. "There's only one thing allowed to be dropped on Mark, and that's my ass on his d– "

"Whoa!" Niall hollered, stepping around to the front of the car and giving them all a very pointed look. He was well aware of that fact that Nick and Mark had a sex life, but he _really_ didn't want any of the details. Ever. There were just some things he didn't want to relate to his little boy and that was one of them.

"Nick," Mark said sharply, glaring at the petulant boy still sitting on the car hood. "We could really use your help getting the bikes out– "

No," Nick said flatly, glaring at his lap and ignoring Mark's annoyed huff as Jake dragged him back into the shed.

Niall settled down on the hood next to Nick, watching Jake and Mark struggle and argue as they hoisted one of the bicycles up and carried it out into the driveway.

"You going to tell us what the attitude's all about?" Niall asked him.

Nick eyed Mark and Jake as they disappeared back into the garage and then turned his dark gaze onto Niall. "I don't ride bikes," Nick told him.

Niall sighed, because they really didn't tell him anything, and Nick had given him every indication in the past that he did whatever made Mark happy. Something as simple as them all going for a bike ride causing this reaction didn't make any sense to him.

"It'll be fun, Nick. We'll bike on that trail along the river and stop for a picnic– "

"No," Nick cut in, sounding embarrassed and nervous. "I _don't_ ride bikes."

The emphasis made something click in Niall's brain. Not that he didn't like to or didn't want to, but that he couldn't, as in he didn't know how. Niall's chest tightened slightly as he stared at Nick sadly. He'd learned a lot about Nick since September, but every week new little things kept cropping up that always shocked him in their simplicity.

"I'll teach you, if you want," Niall offered quietly as Mark and Jake shuffled out with another bicycle and lined it up with the first one.

"I– what, no... "

"It'll be easy. You balance on that skateboard like a pro," Niall added encouragingly, getting to his feet and dusting his jeans off. "Come on, you can't miss out on the first Hudmelson bike trip."

"Hudmelson?" Nick echoed as Niall hauled him to his feet. "That's a ridiculous combination."

"Well, Jake's still Hudson and you're still Atkinson so we can't just be the Shemes," Niall explained as he followed Nick out to the two bikes in the driveway. One was his own bike, and the second was Jake's old bike that was a bit smaller, but perfect for Nick to learn on.

"Maybe I'll just become a Sheme when Mark and I get married," Nick argued and then he seemed to realize what he'd said. He ran a hand through his curls and coughed awkwardly. Niall stared at him again, hating his mind for how easily it created the image of Nick and Mark, hand in hand, exchanging their vows, just as they were now. He was definitely _not_ ready for that. In a decade, maybe, but not yet.

"You kick back the kick- stand like this." Niall demonstrated the motion, and watched Nick successfully repeat it. He took his time explaining how best to balance on the bike and took Nick out onto the street with the smaller bicycle. It took some encouraging nods, and several sneering comments from Nick before he managed to get Nick on the bicycle.

They were out there until well after Mark and Jake had hauled the rest of the bicycles out, pumped up their tires, and then stuffed everything back into the shed. Jake had disappeared into the house after that, but Mark sat on the curb and watched Niall as he gripped the back of the bicycle seat to steady Nick as he took off down the road again. Niall took a few running steps this time, and then let go without a word. Nick wobbled slightly, but he kept going, cruising down the street and turning at the same spot they'd been looping around for the past few hours.

As Nick caught sight of Niall standing off the road, flashing him a big grin and thumbs up, he grinned, too, looking thrilled at finally doing it on his own. An echoing memory flashed through Niall's mind – Mark's bright, young face coming back from the same spot after countless falls, but finally hanging on and getting it right.

There was something much more rewarding about seeing that same smile on Nick's face, though. There was something magnetic and lively and simple about Nick that made Niall love the boy more every day. A simplicity that Nick had missed out on, but that he was still going to get thanks to Mark's determination to find the lost little boy.

He smiled and congratulated Nick as the man pulled to a stop next to him. He'd never guessed he'd want three sons, but now that he had them, he wouldn't trade any one of them for anything in the world.

Carole pulled to a stop on the side of the gravel road. The little graveyard was almost an hour east of Westerville, in Nick's childhood town of Conesville, but it was a trip the two of them made together every year since Nick had become a part of their family.

As she stepped out of the car and turned to watch Nick climb out of the driver's seat it hit her how long ago that first time had been. Six years since a surly seventeen year-old Nick had dragged his feet across the road with a similar bouquet of pink roses and dropped down in front his mother's headstone. He'd been a bundle of nerves and snappy remarks the entire trip and had placed the flowers on her grave quickly and then run back to the car as though he was scared her ghost might tug him down and swallow him up. It had been a remarkably short stay after such a long drive, but it had been the beginning of some much needed healing for Nick.

They set off across the gravel road and up the little embankment, twisting through the maze of gravestones until they reached the far right corner. Nick rubbed a hand over his stubble as they stopped at her grave.

_Lyra Briella de Luca Atkinson_

_January 17, 1967 - May 12, 2000_

_"To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another."_ _- Leibniz_

Carole and him had continued to make the same trip every Mother's Day since then, and slowly Nick had allowed her closer. She had caught a few murmured words over the years, but he'd never let her sit with him. But as Nick set the bouquet of pink roses against the expanse of marble, his hand reached out and caught hers before she had turned away.

"You... you can stay if you want," he said quietly, dropping to one knee and resting his chin on the leg still propped up.

Surprised, Carole froze, turning back to see Nick glance up at her almost bashfully. She nodded slowly and let him pull her back. "If you're sure," she replied, reaching down to grip his shoulder tightly as he looked back at the gravestone.

"It's nothing you don't already know," he told her. "Nothing you won't know in a few hours either... "

Intrigued, she kneeled down next to him and watched him shift the flowers slightly as he cleared his throat.

"I graduated college last week," he started, tracing a finger over the "L" in Lyra. "Bachelor's degree in music and performance, just like you."

Carole smiled as Nick spoke. All three of her boys had graduated within the last two weeks. Jake from Ohio State, Mark from a fashion school in New York City, and Nick from Berklee College of Music in Boston. It wasn't Julliard like his mother had gone to, but from the moment Nick had stepped foot on that campus he'd fallen right into place.

"A minor in English, too, if you can believe that," Nick continued, returning his hand to his knee where his chin was resting. "Definitely helped a lot with my songwriting. The band's still doing good. We're going on tour starting in August once me and Mark are moved into our apartment."

Nick paused, a little smile tugging at his lips as Carole tentatively took her hand off his shoulder and eased it around his waist instead. In their everyday lives Nick had come to accept and enjoy her embraces and loving touches, but in vulnerable moments like right now, he was still prone to shy away from anyone who wasn't Mark.

For a long time Nick was quiet, staring almost transfixed at the name engraved on the marble and Carole kept still and silent at his side. She'd learned so much about Lyra Atkinson over the years, knew how much she'd meant to Nick even with how young he'd been when she'd died. She would have been so proud of the young man kneeling beside her. Carole was certain of it.

"It was rough for a while since we were so far away," Nick said suddenly. "I'm still not sure how we managed to make it work after some of the fights we had... but I'm still so in love with him, Mamma. He's all the hope and everything good in this world that I'd thought I lost when you died."

Nick wiped his nose on his sleeve as a warm breeze blew through the rows of gravestones. Carole chided him gently, but it was only half- heartedly. She'd never admit it, but she was incredibly fond of that gesture, whether it was Nick or Jake or Niall that did it.

Nick laughed a little at her reprimand, squeezed her hand quickly and then dug his hand into his pocket for a moment. When he pulled it back out he was clutching something, though Carole couldn't tell was it was until he popped it open.

"I'm asking him to marry me tonight," Nick said calmly, rubbing his thumb over the little silver band in the ring box. "I... I hope he says yes– "

"He will," Carole reassured him, feeling tears fill her eyes at Nick's words. For years she'd suspected that someday they'd get married. There was nobody else she could picture either of them with. Ever since she'd met Nick, it had always been the two of them together as a pair rarely one or the other by himself, at least not when they came to visit on holiday. "Oh, _Nick... _"

"Ugh, don't cry," Nick whined as she wrapped him up in a tight hug, letting her tears fall as he reluctantly returned her embrace. "He hasn't even been asked yet, _god._"

She tried to laugh and ended up hiccupping as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. Nick looked away in embarrassment and snapped the little box closed, stuffing it back into his pocket and reaching out to touch his mother's gravestone once more.

"You'd like him, Mamma. I wouldn't have my life without him," Nick said earnestly, tracing his fingers over her name again. "I... " he paused and took a shaky breath, as though whatever he was about to say was something he was terrified of– something that had been weighing on his mind for years. As though her opinion on his next words meant everything and more to him. "I think you might recognize me if you saw me now," he whispered softly. "You wouldn't have before."

"Yes, she would," Carole said with certainty. "Your smile gives you away," she added affectionately as she brushed his curls off his forehead. "She loves you just as much now as she did then, sweetheart."

"I... "Nick nodded, and gulped, taking her hand as she stood up. Carole pulled him to his feet, dusted his shoulders off, and straightened his shirt.

"Come on," she smiled, pulling him back towards the road. "You've got a very lucky man to propose to as my Mother's Day gift."

Nick laughed and let her pull him along. He still sounded nervous, but he squeezed her hand tightly just the same and turned back for one more glimpse of his mother's gravestone. Carole looked back, too. She hated what had happened to Nick and his parents eighteen years ago, but in a strange way she was grateful as well. If Nick's young life hadn't taken such a tragic turn she wouldn't be considering her soon to be son- in- law one of her closest friends now. Mark would have spent high school miserable, may have completely lost himself after his father's heart attack.

Carole wished Nick's own mother could have been here for her son, could have cheered at his graduation the previous week or peered through the window when Nick pulled Mark out back onto the porch to talk to him that night. She hoped that Lyra thought she was a good enough substitute in her place – that she was everything real and physical that Lyra could no longer be.

Nick never thought he'd have a wedding day, especially once Mark had started gushing over all the different things they had to prepare and set up and all the locations he had thought about for their wedding. He'd stepped aside and let Mark take the lead for most of it, except for one thing: Nick had wanted to have the wedding in Ohio. Without any more words from him, Mark had immediately understood his reasoning for it and agreed to Nick's one request.

That had been two and a half years ago. Now Nick was almost regretting the whole thing, and not because he was getting cold feet about getting married. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about that.

With a nervous gulp, Nick fidgeted in his dressing room while Carole finished tying Sam's tie.

"I'm the hottest ass you've ever seen, aren't I?" Sam asked him, twirling on the spot and dragging a hand through his Mohawk.

"Some nice cold lube will take care of that," Nick commented off-handedly.

Sam glared at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Keep it up, Atkinson, and you'll be out a best man."

"I'm sure Mark wouldn't mind playing both roles," Nick retorted as he fidgeted some more. "He's got quite a role- playing kink."

"_Boys_," Carole warned before Sam could continue their banter. A moment later the door creaked open and Niall stepped inside, shutting it softly behind himself.

"Arguing already?" Niall quipped. "I almost think you two should get married instead. You sound more like an old married couple than me and Carole."

"Mark isn't the threesome type," Nick grumbled, stepping over to the nearest mirror and adjusting his tie. Niall and Carole rolled their eyes at his comment. God, he was so nervous. And not just because of all the little what- ifs running around in his head – like what if Sarah pissed Mark off even more and flames shot out of his eyes and the building burned down – but because he very well may be headed for the next biggest let down of his life. It'd been years since he'd encountered one of those and he wasn't sure he knew how to handle the possibility anymore.

Niall's strong, reassuring hands fell onto his shoulders and Nick glanced up to meet Niall's eyes in the mirror. "She'll be here, kiddo."

"You don't _know_ that," Nick said instantly, tugging himself out of Niall's grip and pacing between the mirror and the door. "She never R.S.V., we haven't spoken in _years_..."

What if she never got her invitation? Or worse, what if she'd gotten it and torn it up? What if she _hated_ him now?

Nick found himself being spun around by the shoulders. He met Niall's eyes nervously as Niall gave him a sad look. "I don't know it, you're right. But I'd like to believe it, Nick. The little girl I remember di1dn't give up on you no matter what your grandfather told her over the years."

Nick nodded shakily and used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "I won't even recognize her if she is here." The thought made his stomach twist. What kind of older brother couldn't even pick out his little sister in a crowded room?

"I think you will," said a high voice from the doorway.

Nick spun around so fast he over balanced and stumbled into Niall. While the voice was a little deeper than that of a young child, it still set off alarm bells in his head. He glanced up as the door closed to see a beautiful young woman in a deep green dress standing there. A young woman with curly dark blonde hair, and sparkling hazel- green eyes like the ones he saw in the mirror every morning and night.

"It's the eyes that give me away," she said in exasperation, rolling her eyes as she stepped more into the room and towards him. She flashed him a nervous smile. "Hi Nick."

Nick swallowed thickly, his throat tightening painfully as the pressure behind his eyes increased. "L-Lily?"

"Oh, good, you remember my name," she teased. "I actually debated tattooing it to my forehead as a remind for you." The huge grin on her face shrunk slightly as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Nick, what... "

God, she was all grown up now and beautiful and happy and everything he'd been hoping she'd be. As he pulled his hands away and tried to control how emotional he was getting, he saw her face drop into a concerned expression.

"_Fuck_, sorry, I just– "Nick cleared his throat and swallowed loudly, taking a shaky breath before talking. "I never thought I was going to see you again."

"Hey, I'm here," she soothed, hesitating for a moment before clutching his hand. "I've missed you."

He stared down at their linked hands, feeling the warmth of her skin and the strength of her grip as she brushed a few of his tears away. In the next instant she was gasping in surprise as he tugged her into his arms and embraced her. And she laughed at him – the same bubbly, giggling laugh he still dreamed about – as she wrapped her arms tightly around his chest and squeezed him, too.

Lily's cheek dropped onto his shoulder as they stood there in each other's arms, swaying slightly as they reveled in the other's presence.

"I can't believe you're as tall as me," Nick said suddenly, and Lily laughed again, pulling back and swiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"That would be the heels," she told him, tilting her leg a bit so that he could see the three inch heel on her shoe.

For some reason they looked familiar to him, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd had a slight interest in fashion back in high school, but it had never really gone farther than that. Mark was the one who–

"Are those Alexander McQueen?" he asked in amazement.

"Sure are," Lily said brightly. "I don't remember you ever being into fashion."

Nick smiled gratefully at her attempt to brush over their separation. "Mark works for them," Nick told her, a small trickle of pride running through him at the amazed look on Lily's face.

"Wow! That's so cool," Lily gushed.

"Yeah, it's pretty neat," Nick agreed. "I don't understand half of what he's saying most week days, but he's happy." He paused before his next comment. "I'm surprised Cameron would let you buy something that expensive."

"My grandparents insist on buying the best to make up for lost time," Lily answered awkwardly.

"Oh," Nick said softly, surprised by the plural. "You don't live with... _him_ anymore?"

"No." Nick was glad to hear how relieved she sounded. "I moved in with them right after I got my license. Just packed up and left. They're right outside Columbus."

Lily smiled at him, and her gaze flickered nervously over his shoulder to the room's other occupants. He'd completely forgotten that they weren't alone. He turned to see Niall step forward with a warm smile and an offered hand.

"Niall Sheme," he introduced. Nick watched the others come forward for introductions, his sister accepting a hug from Carole, and laughing at Sam's weird attempt at a handshake. None of this felt real. His sister was here and grown up after all of these years, and the people he'd come to call his family were gathered around him to celebrate his wedding day. Lily might even want to be a part of that now.

Lily moved back over to him, pulling him into another tight hug that he let himself fall into. She'd come to watch him marry the man that he loved. She didn't hate him because of it.

"I still can't believe you're here," he mumbled into her hair.

Lily pulled back and flashed him a bright smile. "And miss the perfect opportunity to invite you to my high school graduation? _Please._"

Nick smiled brightly at her words, opening his mouth to ask when and where or for her phone number now or _anything_ when Mark barged in, looking furious.

"Thank _god_ neither of us are brides or this would be _horrible_ luck," he said scathingly. "Where's Jake? I'm about to _murder_ Sarah if he doesn't come shut her up."

"He was showing my parents to their seats last I saw," Carole said, rushing forward and squeezing Mark's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll go find him and help him get Sarah out of your hair, okay?"

Carole made a quick exit. Still looking aggravated, Mark closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, looking like he was attempting to meditate all of his anxiety away.

"Babe?" Nick called hesitantly, taking Lily by the hand and leading her over.

"Nick, unless you have _fantastic _news right now, then I– "

"Still as handsome as you were at sixteen," Lily remarked. "More so, really. I'm glad Nick listened to me when I told him to keep you."

Mark's eyes snapped open, his mouth falling slack as he looked Lily up and down. He followed the line of their linked hands, and looked at Nick's huge grin. "She's– you– oh my _god!_"

Lily's hand was yanked from his grip as Mark launched himself at the young woman.

"You're here! And beautiful! And wearing gorgeous clothes," Mark babbled, pulling back and holding her at arm's length, eyeing her dress and shoes.

As Mark started to ramble on about her dress, Carole poked her head back into the room. "Guys, it's almost time."

"I should get to my seat," Lily said as Mark let her go. She straightened her dress and hugged Nick once more. "Save me a dance, okay?"

"I– y- yeah, okay," Nick stammered in amazement. She pecked him on the cheek and left.

"_God,_ I'm so glad I'm not a bride," Mark muttered, wiping at his eyes. "If I was Sarah my make-up would be ruined."

Nick nodded dazedly as Mark kissed him swiftly on the cheek. "I'll see you in a few minutes, husband."

Nick grinned shyly at him, blushing slightly at the term. "You'll see even more of me later."

Mark rolled his eyes with a fond smile and rushed off with Sam to find Carole, Sarah, and Jake to make sure they were all ready for the walk down the aisle before the grooms come in.

"I told you she'd make it," Niall said from behind him, patting him on the shoulder.

Nick nodded mutely, feeling his throat constricting at the wave of happiness bubbling up inside of him. A heavy arm was slung around his shoulders as Niall ushered him towards the door. "I've never been prouder of you, kiddo, and that's not just because you're making my son the happiest man alive."

"I–thanks," Nick whispered in reply, even though he couldn't bring himself to admit to what he was really thinking. _I'm glad I'm finally someone to be proud of._

"Oh, no," Niall said suddenly, pulling him to a stop at the door and making him face him. "I know _exactly_ what that frown's about. You've _always _been someone to be proud of, you always will be to me, and Carole, and Mark, and your kids someday. It just took you a while to realize it."

He nodded slightly, his throat still too tight for him to say anything more. Niall's words always seemed to have that effect on him, and while he still had moments where he didn't think he was enough, or good enough, he knew Niall was right. He hoped that his own father – the man who had existed before his mother's death – had he been here, would have said the same thing. Would have shown up arm in arm with his sister to celebrate the continuation of his life with Mark. Because their wedding and marriage wasn't a new start or a beginning, it was something more to add to everything else. A new memory of their commitment to each other to add to their enormous collection.

"Let's go find that crazy boy of yours so Carole and I can walk you two down the aisle and hand you off to each other, all right?"

"Sounds perfect," Nick agreed, shutting the door to his dressing room behind them. The people he loved most in the world were waiting just down the hall to celebrate his and Mark's love. Perfect didn't begin to describe how today had turned out.

Mark had always assumed that Nick would be the nervous one when they started looking into adoption. It had never really occurred to him that Nick would be better prepared than he was. But Nick had been incredible throughout the process, including their entrance interviews, answering all the difficult questions about his records and past. It had also helped that Nick had learned to use his charm to his advantage over the years, instead of simply for over- the- top seduction. They were ready, though, as nervous as the thought of finally having a child that would depend on them for _everything_ made him, he knew they could do this together.

He reached for Nick's hand as Mrs. Terrence riffled through their folder on her desk one final time, making sure everything was in order and had been signed by them and herself. When she finally closed it, Mark couldn't stop the giddy smile that crossed his face.

"Congratulations," she said with a bright smile, peering at them over the top of her glasses. "Now, I know you wished to adopt an older child. Perhaps one of our pre-schoolers or early elementary?"

"We were actually thinking a bit older than that," Mark put in.

"Are you sure? An older child is a lot more of an adjustment for all parties. All of our older children have extensive pasts, most of which are very– "

"We know," Nick cut in suddenly. "I've been there personally, until I eventually accepted Mark's family's offer to live with them, but I – _we_," Nick amended, giving Mark a easy smile, "want to share our life with an older child. Be there for him or her, make them see that no matter how cruel the world's been since they arrived in it that there's still something good out there for them. I know how hopeless and lost I felt, I'll never forget it. I can relate – reach them in a way a lot of other parents probably can't."

"We both can," Mark agreed. "I managed to get through to Nick even after everything he did to shut himself off. We've both been through that before, and we want to make some child's life better than what they already know. Want to give them the home they've probably given up on."

Nick nodded at his words. "I want someone I can teach an instrument to so we can jam together and just have some fun. Or take camping with Niall, and teach them about music or football or learn all about whatever they're interested in and go out and do those things."

"Someone we can take to school dances, or talk to about girls or boys or whoever he or she thinks is cute," Mark added. "Or to see that smile on their face when they finally ask their crush out and they say yes and... I want to watch our son or daughter grown up and be as happy as we are now."

"We keep feeling like something is missing," Nick said solemnly. "And every time we talk about it, we both picture an older kid with us. Someone we can do all of those things with. Someone who can be the rest of our family if they want to be." They were a little lose in each other's eyes when Mark suddenly broke their gaze off with a cough, turned to Mrs. Terrence and added, "Oh, we are going on and on, aren't we? I'm sorry, you know all this already. We're just so excited."

Mrs. Terrence smiled fondly at them repeating their dreams and wishes and tugged open a drawer on her filing cabinet. After a few moments of shuffling she pulled out a huge, two inch thick folder and slid it towards them. "I think I know just the boy for you."

Much to Mrs. Terrence's surprise they both refused to look at the folder and its contents – refused to even get told his name for now. Mark smiled encouragingly at her as she led them down into a comfortable greeting room, hoping it would reassure her of what was happening. This boy would have to learn to trust them completely one day, and they'd decided that the best way to do that was to start immediately, which meant letting him tell them things whenever he chose.

She left them to go find the boy and Mark bounced on his feet nervously. Nick clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and Mark rolled his eyes at the very old habit. He'd gotten rid of the tongue piercing years ago, but the habit still remained.

"What stupid thing are you thinking of doing?" Mark asked to get his mind off of how nervous he was feeling. Focusing on Nick's nerves and worries had always been easier than his own.

"Belting 'Walking on Sunshine' at the top of my lungs," Nick answered seriously. "I can't believe we're finally here," he paused and bit his lip, his eyes catching Mark's. "I hope he likes us. What are the odds of the first kid we meet being the one we adopt, right? He'll probably hate us or something or– "

"Hey, none of that," Mark scolded, sliding his arms around Nick's shoulders and dipping his head until their foreheads were touching. Nick's eyes flickered up to his, more golden today than green, but nervous and scared. Maybe Nick wasn't more prepared for this than he was. Maybe both of them were just as terrified of screwing this up.

Before either of them could sooth the other one, the door creaked open and Mrs. Terrence ushered a young boy, around ten or eleven, into the room.

"I'd like you to meet Mark and Nick Sheme," she introduced, gently nudging the boy until he stepped through the door. "They'd like to get to know you over dinner in the mess hall tonight."

Mark's heart did a weird summersault in his throat as the boy glanced back at her and then looked over at them. His green eyes were suspicious as he looked them over, and took another few steps into the room. The shirt hanging off of him was several sizes too big and looked well worn, his hair was shaggy, curly, and dirty blonde, and he was scrawny looking. When they smiled nervously at him, his lips curled a little and he glared darkly at them. It was a look Mark recognized well – the immediate shut out that Nick had trained himself to do after years of being hurt and ignored. Mark steeled himself for the worse that this boy could throw at them – tried to remember the worse Nick had thrown at him when they were sixteen.

"Introduce yourself to them," Mrs. Terrence urged kindly. She prodded him in the shoulder a little to get his attention and shot them an apologetic look.

"Evan," the boy finally supplied. He looked down at his feet and kicked at the ground while Mrs. Terrence squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and told them that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes.

When the door snapped shut behind her, Evan's head shot up and he pierced them with an angry stare. "_She_," Evan jerked his head back towards the door, "put you guys up to this."

It wasn't a question. The words broke Mark's heart a little bit because of the conclusion the boy before them had already made about them and whether or not he'd ever be wanted.

"No," Nick said truthful. "She wanted us to meet some of the younger kids, actually."

"Of course, she did," Evan sneered, crossing his arms and turning away from them. "And when you said 'no' she sent me in to scare you off. Simple as that."

Mark glanced at Nick, who was biting his lips uncertainly, and took a few steps towards the boy, taking in his tangled thick curls. "We'd like to get to know you."

"Bullshit," the boy snapped. "Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, comes here looking for older kids. They just want to go coo over the stupid gurgling babies and the wobbly toddlers. So why don't you shuffle off to the nursery and give this up?"

"Because I'd like someone to play soccer with, or video games, or teach an instrument to," Nick said quietly. He took a few steps forward and squeezed Mark's shoulder. "Mark would love to teach an older kid all about his designers and cars and engines," he glanced over at Evan's wide eyes and slightly shocked expression. "We can't do any of that with a little kid."

"Not right away," Evan spat, but there was something Mark couldn't name flickering in his eyes as he looked from Mark to Nick. "You get to do all the sappy baby book stuff. Or pre-school and all of those firsts or whatever, and _then_ you'll get to do all of those things you want, too."

"Well, maybe me and Mark are being a little selfish, and we don't want to wait," Nick replied calmly. He smiled kindly at the boy, who's gaze was guarded once more. "Or maybe we're just not a fan of dirty diapers."

"Or maybe you're just lazy and don't want to do this whole thing properly," Evan countered. Mark noticed how the anger had disappeared from his tone when he said that sentence. He could tell it wasn't the first time Evan had said those exact words, and briefly he wondered if other prospective parents had fallen for them – had second guessed themselves about not adopting a baby and missing out on so many years. Mark also wondered how many times Evan had told himself exactly that as an excuse for when someone had backed out of adopting him, whether he thinks maybe that if he said it out loud often enough, he'd start to believe it himself.

But for him and Nick it wasn't like that. They'd been talking about children for years now – had ruled out surrogacy because whenever they thought about a child being part of their lives the child was older. Nick and him had looked forward to the quirky banter they might exchange with their son or daughter. The teasing and laughter or the arguments about curfew and boyfriends or girlfriends. Even helping their child with homework, though Mark had already made the executive decision that Nick was the math homework dad so he could keep his math skills from high school alive while Mark had enough of that at work.

"Well, Nick is _definitely_ lazy," Mark agreed. "I'll give you credit for already catching that one. Most Saturdays I have to carry him downstairs just to get him to leave our bedroom." He paused and looked over at Nick, trying to soothe the anxious look in his eyes as much as he was trying to convince Evan to give them a chance. They'd both been prepared to have a lot of verbal abuse thrown their way, but it was still unsettling to come face to face with it. They didn't want to screw this up and scare Evan off or make him refuse to see them. "Nick isn't very good at doing things the proper way, either," Mark added, smiling a little.

Evan looked a little stunned at his deflection, as though most people gave up after that or realized they didn't want to deal with the surly boy standing in front of them.

"Besides, who's to say adopting a baby is the right way to adopt?" Nick asked Evan quietly. "And what's so great about _always_ doing the proper thing? Sounds kind of boring to me, don't you think?"

Evan eyed them warily and crossed his arms. "I guess so... "

Nick squeezed Mark's hand briefly and moved closer to Evan, squatting down in front of him with his forearms resting on his thighs. "Look, me and Mark, we want a family of our own. Even if its small or loud or messy. We've been wanting a child for years. A kid we can share our lives with, and who will let us be a part of his life as well." Mark smiled down at Nick as his husband looked back at him before turning back to Evan, who still looked stunned, but in a better way than before. Not because his words had been turned against him or they'd out witted him, but because of how honest Nick was being with him. How open and hopeful Nick was to share himself with Evan and not some little baby. "That kid we've been wanting? We're kind of hoping it'll be you."

Evan's mouth opened slightly, his shock clear on his face as his eyes flickered to Mark. "But you just– I... you just _met_ me. You don't even know _anything_ about me."

Mark stepped forward and bent down next to Nick in front of the boy. "I can already tell you're perfect for us, Evan," he said sincerely, feeling Nick's hand slip into his. "If you give us the chance, maybe we can be perfect for you, too."

"You... you don't want to– to _fix_ me?" Evan asked, and his tone was both hopeful and almost desperate in his need to know the truth. Mark couldn't even imagine the possibility of what he'd just said. There was no way he'd ever want to "fix" Evan. The boy was everything he'd been dreaming of since the moment he'd stepped foot in the room. He was tough, and angry, and unafraid of speaking his mind. He had that in- your- face quality that Mark had both loved and hated about Nick when they'd first met eleven years ago.

"He never tried to fix me," Nick said sincerely, nodding towards Mark as he reached out and gave Evan's shoulder a squeeze. The boy flinched slightly, and started to jerk away, but his eyes were still wide with amazement as he look up at Nick. "There's nothing about you that needs fixing and anyone who tells you otherwise is a damn liar."

"_Nick_," Mark scolded. "Language. You don't want Mrs. Terrence kicking us– "

But Evan grinned and a little laugh left his mouth before he could stop himself. As soon as the sound escape he clamped a hand over his mouth and his eyes instantly became guarded again.

Mark watched Evan glance at Nick's hand on his shoulder, down to where the two men's hands were linked, and then up to Nick's face. There was a wonder in Evan's eyes that he hadn't seen in years, but that he'd never been able to forget from all the times he'd seen it on Nick's face.

"We'll never try to change you, Evan," Mark told him. "We won't ever force you to tell us anything you don't want to or that you aren't ready to tell us. When you're ready for us to know, we'll be ready to listen."

"What's the catch?" Evan asked warily, stepping away from Nick's hand and putting several feet of distance between them.

"Unless fish is on the menu at dinner, then there isn't one," Mark replied lightly before he could stop himself, but the boy almost seemed to appreciate the line Niall used to feed him. He eyed Evan for a moment – could see the little sparkle of possibilities and hope flickering in his eyes – as he hesitated to reveal anything else to them.

"You know," Nick said suddenly. "I could really go for some Italian food. What do you think of seeing if Terrence will let us go to that little restaurant we passed a few blocks from here?"

"I _love_ Italian food," Evan blurted. Mark smiled at the admission and the horrified look on the boy's face when he'd realized what he'd just told them. Yes, he definitely reminded Mark of Nick, saying things he hadn't even fully thought through and accidentally letting others see who he was underneath the facade he kept up.

"Excellent," Mark said with a smile, but Evan glared up at both of them as though he'd finally realized just how much he'd let them in during this conversation. The fact that it came so easily to Evan gave Mark hope. He wasn't as far gone as Nick had been, was younger and more resilient, perhaps.

Evan bit his lip as he eyed them suspiciously once more and then back pedaled towards the door. "I'll go get my coat," he grumbled awkwardly before rushing out into the hall.

"I think he likes us," Mark whispered as Nick slid his arms around his waist from behind and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Evan Sheme, huh?" Nick tested, laughing excitedly as Mark turned around in his arms.

"It's got a nice ring to it," Mark agreed, unable to stop a bright smile from taking over his face. Nick's grin was just as big – wide, bright and as carefree and wonderful as Mark could ever remember seeing it. Even happier and more real than it had been in the old photograph of him and his mother they had on their mantel.

He reached up and brushed Nick's curls off his forehead, his mind briefly bringing forth the imagine of Nick from all those years ago – covered in piercings, a worn leather jacket and sporting an arrogant smirk. His husband still had his moments, was still that boy in a thousand different ways, but with one major difference. He was happy and had finally opened himself up to not only Mark and his family, but the world.

"You ready?" Nick asked him quietly.

"I'm always ready when I'm with you," Mark murmured, lacing his fingers through Nick's.

Nick shot him a saucy wink and a smirk as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Is that why you keep three bottles of lube in the glove box? Seems a bit excessive. Even for someone who gets it on the regular."

"No," Mark flirted back quietly as Evan stumbled back into the room with Mrs. Terrence in tow. He'd almost forgotten about his secret purchase on the drive over. Nick had been asleep when he'd stopped for gas and some snacks at a store, and Mark had decided to buy a few bottles. They were running low back home, anyway. "That's for the hotel room later tonight. _If _you behave."

Nick grinned, and shot him another wink as Mrs. Terrence started asking about their new dinner plans. Mark let Nick give her all of the information as Evan stood back and tried to pretend he wasn't actually staring at Mark. He flashed Evan a nervous smile that the boy seemed to be fighting to return. Mark only hoped someday that Evan would smile at him the way Nick was right now, that between the two of them they could restore this young boy's hope in the world and give him the happiness he'd been wishing for. The same way Mark and Nick had found their happiness in each other and would now in Evan, too.


End file.
